Shattered
by SignedSealedWritten
Summary: While worrying over her reaction to the new cover art, a call from Esposito shatters his world, tilting it off it's axis. Castle/Beckett
1. Cover Art

_Shattered_

"'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away"

-Broken, Seether

"Come on, Dad. I mean, how long have you been working with her now? You can't seriously think she'll be that mad, can you?"

Alexis Castle was sitting in a wooden kitchen chair, her ankles crossed. The girl was facing her father and leaning forward in the chair, a curious expression settled on her face. It was somewhere between disbelief and bemusement at her father's antics. Her mouth twitched in amusement.

"_You _didn't see the cover art, Alexis." Richard Castle was sitting atop the kitchen counter with a bowl of Froot Loops and a spoon. He thought that the cover art for the new Nikki Heat novel was fantastic, but he hardly thought she'd see it the same way. He had no doubt that Detective Kate Beckett was going to kill him. Or worse. She might just make his life a living hell for the duration of the time that they'd be working together.

Though, if he got to 'be on her case', for lack of a better term, he wasn't sure that he'd mind the endless torture.

"Hiding it will only make it worse, Dad." Alexis warned him, astute as always. It seemed that his daughter was always attuned to what was on his mind. She paused and raised her eyebrows before saying, "What could possibly be that bad? It can't be that bad."

"Oh, oh yes it can." The writer placed down his bowl of cereal next to him on the kitchen counter. "Remember the last one?"

"The 'strategically placed' gun?"

Castle nodded.

"That bad, huh?" Alexis leaned her elbow on the table.

"That bad." There were only about two months left until the release of the second book in the Nikki Heat series that was the result of his following Detective Kate Beckett. His 'muse' as his publicist called her, hadn't taken too well to the cover of the first book in the series, and he doubted that the second, which was much to the tune of the first, would be taken any better in her eyes. "When I don't come home today, know that she killed me."

The first Nikki Heat book had remained on the bestseller list for far longer a time than he'd ever imagined. And while he'd never thought he'd be grateful to have taken this offer over a certain British spy, he'd made the correct choice.

It was only seconds later when Castle's phone rung and a grin took over his features. The writer raised his eyebrows comically at his daughter as he picked up the cell. "Guess who's about to get to go on a case." He answered the phone without a look towards the caller idea, something that he'd remember later on and wonder how he'd been so naïve about it all.

He would wonder how he didn't see it immediately; feel that there was something different and something wrong in the air, something about this phone call that wasn't right.

But he didn't. Richard Castle did not suppose anything out of the ordinary as he flipped open the cell and expected to hear the detective's voice on the other end of the line.

"Castle." He answered, winking at Alexis, who rolled her eyes.

"It's Esposito." Something in his voice stopped Castle cold. "Kate's missing."

And the world spun violently off its axis.

_Author's Note:_

_This is my first Castle FanFiction. I've been toying around with the idea of writing one for awhile. I really hope that you enjoyed it. As this is only the prologue, future chapters will be much longer. _

_So… is it worth continuing? Do you want to read more? What did you think? Opinions, please?_

_Please, please review. It means the world to me. It really does. _


	2. Stoppped

Shattered

"I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain, there is healing  
In your name I find meaning"

-Broken, Lifehouse

For seconds, his world stopped. All thought ceased to exist and he knew only the distant sound of blood rushing in his head. The writer had never thought that it would be possible for thought to ever cease in his brain – always another thought, always another idea – but now his mind was like the shore of a violent ocean. The fingers that were grasping the phone and holding it to his ear went numb as his mind.

He didn't know how long he stood there, but it couldn't have been more than ten seconds. Rick Castle's mind was awakened again by the two calls of his name – one standing next to him, the other by Esposito on the phone.

"She's not missing. Didn't you check her apartment?" Castle managed the words but they sounded dumb when he said them aloud. Of course they'd already checked her apartment.

"Who's missing?" Alexis was standing now, having come over from the chair to try and hear the conversation. She hardly needed to ask the question, though – who else could it be? Her face drained of color. Her father held out a hand in a 'wait' motion.

"Ryan and I are there right now. She didn't show up this morning."

"Leads?" There was a hint of hope in his voice. Maybe she'd just spent the night somewhere else. Maybe … maybe it didn't mean that someone had taken her.

"None." The response was so simple, but it shattered what hope he'd had.

"Uh …" He went through his mind, searching for the answer he knew had to be there, but came up short. "Enemies. Recent enemies."

"She's a detective, Castle. She's got plenty."

He hissed out a breath. "Was there any evidence at the sc- her apartment?" He'd almost called it the scene. He refused to refer to _her_ apartment as the crime scene.

"Dad?" Alexis asked again, worry strong in her voice. "It's Beckett, isn't it?"

He didn't want to nod but he had no choice. Shocked, Alexis leaned back into the chair again, a pale hand covering her mouth.

"Signs of a struggle." Esposito said. "Things knocked over, a broken vase. There's some blood. CSU's going over it now." Esposito didn't say if the blood was from her or from the attacker, but figuring that she wasn't there - the chances were that it was hers.

_There's some blood_. Those words scared him, but he forced past it. "Of course. She doesn't go down without a fight." He thought of all the times he'd seen her take someone down and couldn't believe that someone had managed to get the jump on her. "We need to find her. Suspects. Evidence." All the police work that she did and he followed in her shadow of. "Where am I meeting you?"

"The precinct." Esposito answered quickly. "Ryan's already headed there."

"Good, alright." His mind was working again - running down the lists of all the possible people who could be turned into suspects. Esposito had been right - there were plenty who could consider her an enemy. Family members of people she'd caught, the people she'd caught who were on parole ... and then there were the other options. Crazed stalkers. Random snatching.

He hung up and turned to find Alexis still standing there, her eyes wide and an expectant expression on her face. "How?" She spoke only the one word.

"Someone took her from the apartment." It was a Sunday. Martha would be back soon - she could be alone until then, even though he didn't appreciate the idea. She was fifteen, after all. However, when he grabbed his coat from the hook in the hallway, he was surprised to find that Alexis was following him. She, too, was grabbing her coat off of its hook.

"Alexis-"

"She's my friend too, Dad. I'm coming with you. I'll stay out of the way unless I think of something. Besides, if it's a crazed Nikki Heat fan, do you really want me to stay here?" Alexis raised her eyebrows.

"No, I don't." The writer admitted with a sigh. If that was what this was, then she'd be safest at the precinct. "You're coming with me." The other detectives there would have to understand. As soon as he could, he'd call his mother and warn her. There were places she could go as well – stay at Chet's house for awhile longer, until they were sure of things.

Locking the door behind them, he turned to Alexis with a nod. "Alright. Let's go."

--

She woke to find her head was pounding. It wasn't one of her normal headaches – one of her 'stressed, doing too much' variety – but rather like she'd hit her head heavily on something. When she realized that, memories came back, quickly, pressing against the sides of her skull. There'd been a struggle in her apartment… she'd hit her shoulder, too.

More awareness began to seep back into her, but she wished that it hadn't. Her right shoulder was on fire and her left ankle was a haze of pain. Coldness was nearly a physical presence in the room. Thick rope encircled her wrists, pulling her dislocated shoulder back cruelly. Beckett swallowed several times, breathing in and out. Broken ribs, she realized quickly.

"Whoever is finding this amusing is going to pay." She half whispered the words. "Big time."

_Author's Note: _

_I'm sorry for the short chapter. If I didn't get around to replying to you, I swear that I will this chapter. I was __**amazed**__ at the response I've gotten so far – ecstatic, really – and I'm hoping that you'll stick with me and review again. Please. It really helps me with writing. __Opinions? Comments? Gracias. _


	3. Files

**Shattered**

Catch me as I fall  
Say you're here and it's all over now  
Speaking to the atmosphere  
No one's here and I fall into myself  
This truth drives me  
Into madness  
I know I can stop the pain  
If I will it all away

-Whisper, Evanescence

By the time that Richard Castle arrived at the precinct, Detective Ryan was already there. The younger man looked up as he and Alexis entered. Castle would have been there sooner, but Alexis had been in the backseat. He wasn't going to speed, not with her there.

He felt lost without her there – as if he didn't really belong and had no true place to be. He'd nearly expected for her to be there, sitting behind her desk, but Beckett's desk was empty. It wasn't only _empty,_ it was _vacant_, not really a desk without her.

"What do we have so far?" He asked of Ryan, who appeared to be going through several stacks of files.

"Esposito is getting the security footage from the front, back, and the halls of the building. CSU is dusting for fingerprints. I'm going through complaints against her. Most of these are nothing, but we've got to go through them anyway. It could lead to something." He tried not to sound doubtful.

Castle nodded. Every lead was worth checking. Leave no leaf unturned. He'd learned that much. "Weren't there any witnesses?"

Ryan shook his head. "None. She was taken early morning, sometime before dawn. Apparently there's a couple living next door to her that fight constantly, so the crashing didn't raise any alarms."

"Can I help?" Alexis asked, blue eyes going from her father to Detective Kevin Ryan. "I know I can't do much, but it can't hurt to have another set of eyes on those files."

Ryan looked towards her father, asking his permission. With acceptance from him, he handed several of the files and pulled out a chair for her. "Anything unusual, out of the ordinary, you tell me. Any particularly violent, vicious, or angry comment."

Alexis nodded, already at work.

"Criminals she convicted?" Castle asked Ryan. "What about them? If they're out on parole, they could have come after her. Vengeance." He kept his words short, nothing elaborate like he'd usually comment on. This wasn't one of his novels. This was _Beckett_. She was alone, probably hurt, and they needed to save her. Even though he knew that she was a strong, capable woman, this particular train of thought didn't include that fact.

"That's where I'm headed now." Ryan indicated the other stack of files on his desk. "I've got to find out how many are still in jail."

Castle rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "Did he drop anything inside the house when he was taking her?" He hated saying those words.

"Nothing that the CSU team or myself or Esposito saw." He shook his head, clearly frustrated. "How are those files coming along, Alexis?" He turned to the younger Castle.

She bit her lip, shaking her head. "Ordinary. Someone didn't like the way that she talked to them during an investigation. Someone else says they didn't handle the case quickly enough. That one was resolved, though."

"Alright, keep going."

Alexis nodded, delving back into the files.

"What about families? Husbands of convicted woman. A son or a daughter."

"If there are any connected to these files, I'll see them." He answered, but paused before picking up the first file. The next question wasn't one he particularly wanted to entertain, but he asked it never the less. "Castle, what about fans?"

"Nikki Heat fans." He quickly distanced himself from that, not wanting to think about the fact that it could be someone reading his book that had taken Beckett earlier this morning. He turned to her empty desk, swallowing once before saying, "Can I use her computer? I'll check the website and see if there are any comments suggesting … something like that."

"Go ahead." Ryan said, holding out a hand to it.

--

She felt weak. Kate struggled to remember exactly what had happened. She remembered getting into bed. Her head throbbed as she attmpted to remember further. There'd been a crash, later on ... but things got fuzzy after that. There'd been someone in her apartment and she'd fought him. She couldn't remember the details. She couldn't remember his face.

She twisted her left wrist, reaching upwards with her fingers to try and loosen the knot. No such luck. Pulled back so tightly, her right shoulder was making her dizzy with pain.

"Damn." She muttered, letting her eyes adjust. The lighting was dim here, but she was able to see slightly after blinking several times.

Kate Beckett was in a basement.

It wasn't a finished one. The walls were of cement and the floor was cold and hard. She couldn't figure out where the only source of light in the room was coming from. Kate managed to turn her head slightly to the left and saw the smallest slit of light, coming from underneath what she could only figure to b ea door. Stairs led away from it, down into the basement.

Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she struggled with the ropes, feeling them dig into her wrists. Eventually she had to give up the act, leaning her head back against the wall. She couldn't allow herself to close her eyes, in case she happened to be concussed. Not that she wanted to sleep in the first place, even though she kept feeling the draw towards it.

And then she thought of Castle.

The man was likely to do something _stupid_. Something _idiotic_. Like showing up here without backup and trying to be some sort of hero. She could only hope Ryan and Esposito kept a careful eye on him.

There was nothing else she could do.

Don't turn away  
(Don't give in to the pain)  
Don't try to hide  
(Though they're screaming your name)  
Don't close your eyes  
(God knows what lies behind them)  
Don't turn out the light  
(Never sleep never die)

I'm frightened by what I see  
But somehow I know  
That there's much more to come  
Immobilized by my fear  
And soon to be  
Blinded by tears  
I can stop the pain  
If I will it all away

-Whisper, Evanescence

_Author's Note: _

_I'm not too sure about the second part of this chapter. I'd truly appreciate a review – I'm really grateful for all of the reviews that I've gotten so far. I'll be responding to those I didn't get around to today, though I got a fair amount in yesterday. I believe you'd rather I got this chapter up first then responded, so that's what I did. _

_Please review. Because you're awesome. If that makes any sense. All of you are awesome for reading and reviewing so … please keep doing so. _


	4. Keep Going

Shattered

"If you're going through hell, keep going."

-Winston Churchill

He hadn't checked his website in over a week. Between dealing with the final weeks before publication of the second Nikki Heat novel and following Beckett on cases, he simply hadn't had the time. With the release of the cover earlier that morning, he'd planned to log on and check this particular section later today – and now wished that he'd done so much earlier.

Well aware that he was an inch from holding his breath, Castle logged on to the site and found the section that he needed rather quickly: the comment section. Readers were encouraged to leave feedback on any aspect of the novel that they wished to. Most of the comments now were about the cover released that morning. Those weren't the comments that were going to do him any good – though he scrolled through them anyway, looking through them for anything out of the ordinary. He'd received those types of comments before, of course: stalkerish comments about Derrick Storm, but never before had a character been based on a real person.

The cover had received good feedback, but only one comment in the section caught the writer's eye. It wasn't a logged in comment, but he had the option turned on that logged all IP addresses, so it wouldn't be much of a problem to track the commenter down.

'_Doesn't do her justice, Richard. It seems like you never even met her. I have. Several times. Get your facts correct.' _

Castle hissed out a soft breath before turning to look towards Detective Ryan. "I think I've got something here." The detective raised his head and came towards the computer. Rick moved aside to let them have a view of the screen. With a single finger, he pointed to the comment in question.

It took Ryan only a second to read it before he cursed quietly. "Can you find all comments by that IP address, Castle?"

The writer nodded quickly. "Already on it." He moved quickly into the control section of the website, typing in the IP address that leaving the comment had logged.

"I've got something too." Alexis called out suddenly from her place at Ryan's desk. She was holding up two files in her hand. She didn't wait for Ryan to come to her. She moved quickly from the desk instead, heading towards him with the files. "Both of these are from the same guy. Ethan Anderson. Detective Beckett had his case six years ago, but the file says she couldn't convict him. There wasn't enough evidence."

Castle was already going towards his daughter, leaving the website still searching for comments by that address. "What are the complaints about?"

"He says he didn't get the chance to get a lawyer, but it also says that he refused one earlier. That's the first one. The second is that he waited too long in the interrogation room, but the first was what caught my attention. What do you think?"

"I think you did good work, Alexis. I'll need to see if that case went cold or if a conviction was ever made." Ryan told her.

At the sound of a beep Castle turned back around. The search had completed. He quickly returned to the chair in front of her computer, stopping his jaw from dropping at the long list of comments. There were seventeen from the past three days alone, all of them similar to the tone of the first: he hadn't done her justice. He didn't see her in the same light as he did. He had to get his facts right. The comments had started sometime soon after the article about Beckett and himself.

"Print those." Ryan said, reading over Castle's shoulder. "We're going to need a trace on that address." He was already going towards the phone to dial a technical analyst.

"What about Ethan?" Alexis questioned.

"I'll follow that one as well." Ryan assured her. "One of these has got to give us something." After hanging up with the analyst, Ryan nodded to Beckett's computer. "Castle, do a search on Ethan Anderson. See what comes up."

The writer quickly typed the name into Google. Several links popped up and he clicked on the first. The man's heart was going too quickly, making him sick to his stomach.

"Ethan Anderson." He said aloud. The website he'd clicked on was one for a local newspaper that had covered the murder investigation: three young women, all under twenty five. "He was the chief suspect in one of Detective Beckett's early cases. There were three women whose bodies were never found, but she didn't have enough evidence to convict him. He walked." He went to another link, but shook his head angrily. He read nearly in monotone, paraphrasing from the article that he read. Today wasn't one of those days where he'd add stories and flare. "There was a hotline set up, but the case went cold." He grit his teeth. "Damn."

"There's something there that I don't understand." Alexis added, coming to stand next to Ryan. Her blue eyes were curious.

"What's that?" Castle continued to scroll down the article.

"If Beckett let Ethan walk, why would he take her now?"

--

It was becoming more difficult to breath. She knew without a doubt that she had broken ribs. She'd had them before, knew what they'd felt like, and knew that she had to try to keep breathing normally. Otherwise, she risked the chance of infection.

The only saving grace was that her feet weren't tied. Digging her teeth into her lower lip, Kate rolled so that her weight was resting on her left hip. Pain flared through her abdomen, but she ignored it in lieu of a way of escape. Heaving herself forward, she managed so that she was resting on her knees instead of sitting.

Of course, she'd forgotten about the broken ankle, but knew that she had to forget that, too. Doctors could fix things. They couldn't fix things if she were dead. Lanie was _not_ getting her body in autopsy today.

She leaned her weight against the cement wall behind her, biting down harder on her lip so that she wouldn't make a noise. Bracing herself there, she was able to push herself up using her uninjured ankle, resting her weight on it as she managed a standing/leaning position against the wall.

Detective Beckett heaved a sigh of relief through pain.

She was standing. She could do more things from standing. It was this simple train of thought that enabled her to continue to stand on one foot, braced against cold, damp cement. She attempted to roll the rope off of her wrists using the wall, but had no luck with that endeavor.

It was then that the door opened, and blinding light flashed into the near absolute darkness.

_Author's Note: _

_There were several questions as to this story. Two of them I'll address here. _

_A reviewer asked about Beckett and her thoughts of Castle in the previous chapter. No, she does not know where she is. Neither does he. She merely expects Castle to attempt to help and do something idiotic, getting himself hurt in the process – as with all the times that she's told him to stay in the car and he hasn't. _

_No, this isn't a song fic. I include quotes at the beginnings of chapters. Sometimes, I'll use song lyrics instead of a quote. This time, I used a quote. _

_I hope that you enjoyed this chapter – I have a feeling there are several angry people for where I ended it – but … please, opinions, reviews, comments, it makes the word go 'round. _


	5. Insanity

**Shattered**

"You call it madness, but I call it love."

-Don Byas

"You see?" Alexis asked, looking from her father to Ryan and back again. "It doesn't make sense." Frustration took over her features; her attempt to help had failed.

"What doesn't make sense?" Detective Esposito questioned when he entered the room. He was holding several photographs in one hand, and like the others, his expression wasn't what it normally was: more somber, grim.

"My suspect." The fifteen year old answered, throwing a single hand up into the air. "_He _doesn't make sense."

"Trust me when I say that I've known the feeling." Esposito answered in sympathy before holding out the three photographs in his hand to Ryan. "These came from the security cameras."

Castle quickly lifted his eyes from reading the comments left from the IP. The writer hurried over to join the gathering detectives by the photos. He stood behind Ryan, looking over the man's shoulder to study the pictures.

The three photographs in question were all of a red pick-up truck: but it was not the truck that made Richard Castle hold his breath for a moment, his head spinning. No, it was who was in the passenger seat that did that to him.

There, in the passenger window, was a blurry outline of Detective Kate Beckett.

It looked as if she were sleeping. The side of her head was resting lightly against the window. In the blurred photo, she appeared almost peaceful. Castle felt several degrees of hatred run through him; his blood boiled.

"The guy is damn brave." Esposito broke the silence. "Those photos were taken at two this morning."

"No license plate?" Ryan questioned his partner.

"Nada." Esposito answered. He looked from Castle and his daughter to Ryan, and back again. "What else do we have so far?"

"We used to have two suspects." Alexis answered. "I think we've only got one now."

"We're not counting Ethan Anderson out yet." Ryan assured her. "He could still have a reason that we can't understand. Alexis, let's see that photo of Anderson."

The fifteen year old unclipped the photograph from the complaint file and held it out to Ryan. The man took it, holding it out for them to see.

The photo was of Ethan Anderson six years ago. Longer than average dirty blonde hair framed large hazel eyes. An oversized nose – broken at least twice – hung over thin lips. His skin was pallid. Castle grit his teeth. If this was the man who had kidnapped Kate, he'd break him in two. He subconsciously flexed his fingers.

"Let's see that security photo again." Ryan began seconds before the phone on his desk rang and he held up a finger. "Hold on." Esposito, Castle, and Alexis held the two photos out side by side.

"Detective Kevin Ryan." He said into the desk phone.

The pleasant voice of their analyst answered him. "I checked the IP address that you asked for? It belongs to a man living in New York City. He's pretty close to you, a construction worker?" She had the tendency to end most of what she said like a question, something that most of the detectives had gotten used to once they'd known her for awhile – and considering she was the best analyst that they had, most of them spoke to her quite often. "It's a construction worker, by the name of Ethan Anderson?"

Ryan's heart skipped a beat at the same instant that Castle called out excitedly, "The nose! It's the same."

The analyst was still talking. "-owns a red Chevy and I'm sending his address to your cell."

"Thank you, Amanda." His heart was beating too fast, his eyes on Esposito, Castle, and Alexis.

"Find her?"

And he hung up.

Castle immediately shoved the two photos towards the second detective. The writer's eyes were wide. "It's Anderson, Ryan." Alexis's eyes were just as wide as her father's were. "The guy in the driver seat, it's Anderson." He said, as Esposito nodded his approval of that fact.

Ryan was reaching into his desk drawer as he spoke, removing his badge and securing his gun at his side. "That was our technical analyst, Amanda. Our IP address belongs to one Ethan Anderson.

"He owns a red pick-up."

--

When her eyes adjusted to the blinding light, she saw him for the first time in six years. Detective Beckett refused to show that recognition in her eyes. Instead, she grit her teeth and struggled to remain standing as Ethan Anderson moved easily down the stairs that led into the basement.

"Welcome to my home, Katherine."

So, that was where she was. In the six years that she'd attempted to put him away, he hadn't changed much at all. Those eyes were still the same as she remembered them – cold. It was the first case that she'd failed. She wouldn't forget it.

"It's been six years. I'm so sorry that we had to reunite this way… do you remember me? Of course you do." Ethan said the sentence in one breath. "You let me _go_." His smile was ugly.

"Because there wasn't enough evidence, you twisted _freak_." She growled the words without thinking, repressing a groan as she tried to remain upright.

"Now, now, don't be like _that_." He came closer until she could see the color of his eyes and smell his cologne. In the cold air, sweat dripped down her face as she fought gravity's pull. "I know how much you loved me." Insanity was like an aura on this man.

"Like a cold sore." She hissed back, standing her own. With her hands tied behind her, she could do nothing physically, but she refused to cower before him. "Or like one of those annoying, tiny, yappy dogs. Ever met one of them?" She continued to speak because she could do nothing else. "You know you keep showing up like a bad penny. Really? Once was enough."

"Katherine?"

Her eyes went to his hand and she caught the gleam of the knife.

"You loved me. And if I can't have you, neither can he."

_Author's Note: _

_This has been one of _those _days, the ones where you don't like anything that you do. So I hope that I hear some feedback on this chapter, please. And, I honestly don't understand quite why I've got so many people reading, but I'm eternally thankful. You're all amazing for reading this. Thank you so, so much. From the bottom of my heart. _

_Please review. :)_


	6. Clatter

**Shattered**

"Broken lights on the freeway,  
Left me here alone."  
-Broken, Lifehouse

"What do you want, Ethan?"

Detective Kate Beckett was leaning heavily against the cold, damp cement wall behind her. She wasn't sure of how much longer she could remain standing like she was: broken ankle lifted from the ground, broken ribs, dislocated shoulder and a probable concussion. The fact that Ethan Anderson was holding a knife didn't add any positivity to that mixture. She was tough: she wasn't invincible. All that she could do now was distract him, keep him talking, allowing somebody the time to realize that she was missing.

"I want you." His words made her stomach churn. "That's all I've ever wanted from the moment you set me free." He pointed at her with an oversized index finger; she stubbornly raised her chin. "You belong _here_, not with that _writer_." He laughed; it was an insane sound. "I've been following those _books_ of his." He said the word as if it were something that he might find on the bottom of his shoe.

She discreetly looked from wall to wall, attempting to formulate some sort of plan. _Keep him talking_. "Oh, yeah?" She replied absently. "What do you think?" The only way out was the door, and he was in her way of getting to it.

"His books are nothing compared to you." Ethan's eyes were solely on her. "I thought maybe they'd be good. A substitute. But no. You're the only you, Katherine. Words cannot capture you."

"You … murdered three … woman." She managed to say between painful breaths. Standing was becoming more of a chore than a simple action. She couldn't work her way out of this. No matter what she said, it wouldn't change what Ethan thought: that she was rightfully his, that she was in love with him. Ethan was a man obsessed.

"I never would have met you if not for those girls." He purred, stepping closer. Beckett pressed against the wall, both in an attempt to remain upright and to back away from the gleaming knife that was moving closer . "They were a path to you. I can see all that now. Can't you?"

Her body was shaking from exhaustion. "Ethan, please." She tried another tactic. "Let me go. If you love me, let me go, like I did for you." She was pulling out of her mind whatever she could grasp at. Kate Beckett was grasping at straws. "I need a hospital." She said, hoping that her words would do something even while knowing that the chance was so slim it was nearly nonexistent.

"I did _not_ hurt you." Just like that, the knife was pressing against her shoulder, hard enough for her to feel it. "Take that back. I would _never_…"

"Alright! Just put the knife away." Her heart was pounding crazily in her chest. Her instinct was to push a hand up and block him, but with one shoulder dislocated and the other blocked by his knife, she didn't have the chance. "Please." She added in.

He didn't remove the knife from its place against her skin. "Why should Richard Castle have all the time in the world with you, and I shouldn't be allowed these five minutes?"

"Ethan, you have a knife held up to me. This isn't the time or the pl-"

Her words were cut off when he pressed the knife closer to her. "I _said_ that if I couldn't have you, neither would he. _I meant it_."

She didn't see an end in sight to his madness. He honestly believed that she was in love with him; there was no doubt in her mind that he loved her in whatever way that he had. There was no doubt in her mind that he would kill her if he couldn't have her. "It's cold down here, Ethan." She said, trying a different route. "Why don't we talk this over upstairs?"

"I'm not _dumb_." He hissed, and she saw that coldness flash in his eyes again. He wasn't lying. He'd hurt her. "You'll run the second I let you up those stairs." He touched her chin with a clammy finger. "I can't let that happen, Katherine."

"You'll have to trust me that it won't." She tried one last time, but doubted that if she somehow forced him to let her near the stairs; she'd even make it up them. Her ankle knocked out a lot of possibilities, most forms of escape included.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Katherine."

She grit her teeth and sunk against the wall for a moment, allowing it to catch her weight. Kate contained a sigh that threatened to let itself out. There wasn't much more time that she could remain standing; if he backed away she would surely fall.

He moved closer again, a determined man on a mission. It was in that moment that she decided to act. Her limbs moved before her mind could tell them not to, that she wasn't in any condition to try to fight him off, that it wouldn't end well.

She didn't think. She just _moved_.

The leg that she wasn't leaning on came up, bringing her knee into his groin. Pain flashed through her ankle, pain that she didn't pay any attention to. The knife that he'd been holding bit angrily into her shoulder as he doubled over from the groin hit. Her broken ankle came down, unable to hold her weight, but she was already moving again.

His head snapped backwards from the weakened jab underneath his chin, but he did not lose consciousness. If anything, it only served to make him angrier – and for the gleaming knife, dotted red now, to clatter to the ground. He recovered quickly from both blows, moving towards her and pinning her against the cold wall. Her head hit it again with a _crack_ that she felt.

Her last thought before blackness took over was absurd.

_That'll need stitches_.

_**Author's Note: **_

_I'm sorry that I didn't update this weekend, I'll be returning to my normal once a day posting during the week. It's harder during the weekend, but I'm glad that there are so many people enjoying this story. I promise we'll get some Castle – and, dare I say Castle _and_ Beckett in the same place_ – _in the next chapter. _

_Also, I have a blog - I'd love if you followed it, it's all about writing. The link is on my page. _

_Please, please review. _


	7. Found

Shattered

"She loves her mama's lemonade,  
And hates the sound that goodbyes make,  
She prays one day she'll find someone to need her."

-Beautiful Disaster

"My guy and Dad's guy are the same?" Alexis' blue eyes went from Esposito to Ryan as she stood from her chair. "Then it's him, right?" Her eyes danced from person to person. "Anderson's our guy?"

"It looks that way, Alexis." Esposito answered, swiftly grabbing the keys to the squad car. "Do you have an address, Ryan?" The other man held up a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it in pencil. "Alright, Castle-"

"I'm coming with you guys." The writer asserted. There wasn't room for argument in his voice. There was no way that he wasn't going to be there. He couldn't imagine Kate Beckett frightened, but if she was, she wasn't going to be frightened _and_ alone. He raised his chin stubbornly.

Esposito's eyes went to Ryan in question. Castle was close to Beckett – but then again, so were they. Normally, neither of the two detectives would be the one to go to the address –if anything, they'd follow and ride in the ambulance with Beckett – but there was no time to find another detective. Castle wasn't a cop, though, he was a writer. If he did something rash and jeopardized the situation … "Castle."

"If you want, I'll stay away until you've caught Anderson." He said, holding up a hand. "Look, we don't have time to argue." Beckett was missing, and he wasn't going to be sitting here at the police station. They needed to go to her.

Ryan sighed heavily. "Castle's right. Alexis, you'll be alright here?"

The fifteen year old rolled her eyes, moving her hand quickly towards the door of the precinct. "_Go_ already."

They head quickly towards the door of the precinct, Esposito leading, Ryan and Castle close behind. The latter's heart was pounding against his ribcage. This was _Kate_ they were going to rescue – _he_ was usually the one that needed _her_ to save _him _… and then there was that fact, the one that meant this was partially his fault, because Anderson was a Nikki Heart reader. Why hadn't he checked those comments earlier? Why hadn't he made damn well sure she wasn't in any danger … because o f him?

"You need to be prepared of what we might find.' Esposito hated saying those words. "Stay in the car until we call you in, Castle." The group moved into the cool air of the outdoors.

To Castle, the buildings seemed grayer than normal. They weren't vibrant as they normally were. New York City had lost its luster. Something seemed to have been taken away from it today.

"Take my radio," Detective Ryan handed the equipment over to him as he slid into the passenger seat of the car. "When Anderson is secured, we'll call you in from Esposito's radio." The writer took the radio, similar to a walkie-talkie, as he got into the backseat of the car.

Esposito didn't say what he was thinking – that Anderson had killed three women, and if they got there in time, Beckett was likely to be in worse shape then they were expecting. She was one of the toughest women that he knew, but nobody was invincible, not even her. They might need Castle.

He started the car, taking off in the direction of Ethan Anderson's home.

--

"Hey!" Ethan Anderson took a startled step backwards when she crumbled against the wall, sinking so that she was lying on her side, unconscious. "Hey, open your eyes!" He called out, his hand grabbing at his hair. She wasn't supposed to do that!

"No, no, no!" Why were her eyes closed? "Wake up!"

The man's eyes went towards the stairs, thinking he might have heard something – something that sounded startlingly like a crash – but there was nobody but him living here. He quickly turned his attention back towards Katherine.

He knew, of course: he knew even when she was unaware. He knew even when she did not. She loved him, because she had let him go even though he'd killed three people. He saw it now, yes, how it had all been to lead him here, to this moment, with her.

This was what he had been waiting for his entire life.

--

Esposito led the way into the house first, a hand held up to keep Ryan quiet. There were the sounds of someone talking – but there was only one person. His heart raced; he didn't like the sound of that.

"_No, no, no!" _

Esposito moved a little bit quicker in the direction of the man's voice. It sounded panicked. Frightened, even, and that only served to panic the detective even more. The safety was off of his gun but he pointed it downwards as he moved throughout the house in the direction of the voice. Ryan stuck close behind him.

They came to the open door of a basement, and instantly Esposito knew that Anderson must have heard them enter. They'd had to kick down the door. Why, then, hadn't he come back up the stairs, attempted to hide?

_Because something down those steps is more important to him than being caught_.

That thought only served to make him move even more quickly to the door.

What he saw in the dim light of the basement stopped his breath.

Anderson was pacing, a tiger caught in a cage too small to contain it, one hand grasped in his hair. The other hand was clutching a gleaming knife. The man's eyes were wide, panicked, frightened – instants before they turned on the detectives and he stumbled backwards as if he was drunk.

"Ethan Anderson, NYPD. Drop the weapon and put both of your hands in the air, where we can see them. It's over, Ethan." Esposito spoke quickly, his eyes searching the room for Kate. He didn't immediately see her.

Ethan panicked, taking steps towards the wall.

"Ethan! Put your hands in the air and drop the weapon. I'll shoot if I have to." Especially if he took a step towards Beckett with that knife in his hands. Esposito had the horrible sinking feeling that it had been used once already.

"Alright, alright!" Anderson said, his eyes still wide. "She closed her eyes. She went to sleep. I didn't do it, I swear! She tried to fight me. I just wanted to make her _see_ that she was supposed to love me. I needed to make her _see_… He can't have her. She needs a hospital." The man was babbling.

When he dropped the weapon, Ryan moved past him quickly on the stairs.

"Ethan Anderson, you're under arrest. You have the right…"

All else faded into the background when Esposito's eyes landed on Beckett. His heart stopped, his words halting. "Call Castle."

_Author's Note: _

_I know that I said we'd have Beckett and Castle in the same room in this chapter, but I had to split the chapter into two. There'll be another chapter up tomorrow, but if I can get one up today I'll have another one up today. _

_Please, please review. It means the world to me. I'll get around to responses this chapter as well. _


	8. Angel

**Shattered**

"You are pulled from the wreckage,  
of your silent reverie,  
you're in the arms of the angel,  
may you find some comfort here."  
-Angel

When the call came on the radio, he was out of the car in an instant, moving fast towards the busted front door of Ethan Anderson's home. For once, he'd stayed in the car when they'd asked him to. This was her life hat he'd be jeopardizing if he made the wrong move. Richard Castle was not willing to risk her life more than he already had. He'd breath when they told him to breath, jump when they told him to jump, as long as she survived this. As long as she was alright, he'd stay locked in the car forever. As much as sitting in the car and waiting for a call to come through killed him, as much as he felt helpless, he waited.

But that call had come through now, and he'd entered the house before his mind could even compute the next move. The writer hadn't liked the way that Ryan's voice had sounded when he'd said "We found her, Castle. Come to the basement." His voice had been subdued, nothing like he normally sounded.

The door leading to the basement was ajar.

He wasn't expecting the sight that greeted him when he descended the stairs. Some foreign par of Richard Castle's mind told him that she'd be alright, even when he knew that there was no possible way that he could be. It wasn't logical for her to be okay after being held hostage. The writer part of his mind knew that - if this were one of his stories, there'd be no way Nikki Heat walked out of there perfectly fine.

However, while that was what the writer side of him knew, the other part of him - the part of him that knew Detective Beckett - pushed him into believing she'd be standing when he entered the basement.

She wasn't.

Detective Kate Beckett was crumpled against the far wall in a painful looking heap. It simply appeared as if her legs had given out underneath her, and she'd fallen where she stood. She was lying crumpled on one side, her hands behind her, adjacent to the wall. One of her ankles looked wrong and there was blood blossoming on her shoulder.

He took that in in seconds.

He was down the stairs quicker than he thought a person could move, relatively surprised that he didn't trip and go tumbling downwards. Ryan was already crouched next to her, his hand now clamped over her shoulder. Esposito and Anderson were nowhere to be found.

Ryan moved over as Castle joined him. Kate's hair was a halo of disarray around her pale face and her green eyes were closed. Castle swallowed. "She's..."

"Breathing, Castle. Not very well, but she is. I'm assuming she's got several broken ribs so breathing isn't fun for her right now." Ryan answered. In a simultaneous unspoken movement, Ryan moved his hand away and let Castle put the pressure on her shoulder. "That'll need stitches."

He brushed his fingers along her temple with the hand not putting pressure on her wound. "Kate." He coaxed. Her eyelids fluttered. "Stay with us here. Open your eyes."

"I think she hit her head. Can you try to keep her awake?" Ryan's mouth was turned down.

"Yeah, I'll do that." Castle answered, his eyes flickering to the man. "Go if you need to go to Esposito, I've got her."

Ryan didn't look happy about leaving, but he stood. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Esposito's handling Anderson, but I need to direct the paramedics. They'll be here soon. I don't want them to waste any time trying to find us."

Castle nodded, his attention already back on Beckett. He hardly noticed Ryan leave.

"I know you're hurting, Kate, but you need to wake up." Her hands were still tied behind her back - in the position that she was in, they didn't want to risk moving her much. Her shoulder - the one that wasn't bleeding - was dislocated; he knew what one of those looked like. There were tears staining her cheeks. Was he imagining her eyelids fluttering? "That's it, you're doing great. I'm right here." He coaxed again, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

When her green eyes opened fully, she gasped, pulling back from him as if she'd seen a ghost. Her face pulled even further than the writer had thought possible. She was gasping, taking in huge breaths that only served to pale her even more. Behind her back, her hands struggled to break free.

"Woah, woah, Beckett! It's me! It's just Castle, sweetheart." The term slipped out without his knowledge. "Calm down for a second. It's Castle, annoying, immature, Castle." His heart pounded painfully as he saw the fear in her eyes. "Take slow breaths. In and out."

Her green eyes were dazed and confused, but she did as he said. "Castle?" She questioned when she'd caught her breath for a moment. The one word seemed to drain her strength again.

"Hey, muse." He teased gently, brushing away some of the hair that was stuck to the sides of her face. Seeing the confusion in her green eyes, he continued to speak to her. "It's alright. Relax."

Her mouth was a grimace and she was shivering. Her head had sunk to the ground; she was unable to hold it up any longer. He didn't think that the tears on her face were voluntary. It was as much of a shock as the rest of this; he'd never seen her cry from pain before. His chest tightened.

"I am so, so sorry, Kate." His throat hurt. "What can I do? Let me do something." His hand was still clamped over her bleeding shoulder. Even through all of this, he was aware of the fact that things could have gone much worse if they hadn't gotten here when they did. Though it was hard to be grateful for many things at the moment, he was grateful for that. She was alive.

"Let me sit up." The question wasn't truly a question; it was broken as her voice cracked. Her green eyes were not on him, but on the floor instead. She couldn't stand to look him in the eye during this moment of weakness. "Please, Castle."

"That's not a good idea, Kate." He apologized. "I don't know how badly you're hurt. Moving isn't smart right now." He offered her a small, gentle smile that was meant to be comforting. _I'm here. _"What hurts, Kate?"

She didn't answer his original question; she fought insecurities with her next sentence. "Get me out of here, kitten." There was a hurting smile on her mouth with the sentence that was meant to relieve some of her pain, but it didn't remain there for long. It was replaced by a sharp grimace almost instantly.

"What is it? How can I help?" Castle urged, his hand on her temple. The fact that she didn't pull back alerted him to just how much pain she was in and not letting on to.

"Don't … touch my shoulder." Her voice was tired, more tired than he'd ever heard it before. Her eyes were struggling not to close, and he hoped that wasn't the product of a concussion. "Or my hands. Don't try to untie them. Please." She shivered.

The writer shrugged off his coat, placing it swiftly over her shivering frame. "I can't remove the rope anyway. I don't have anything to cut it with." His words were as much of an admission as an apology."I think Ryan and Esposito had the same idea you had. They didn't want to cause you anymore pain. Don't worry, though, I'll make sure the paramedics remove it very carefully, alright? Ryan went to go direct them. They have Anderson. It's going to be alright." He was speaking, rambling now, because he didn't know what else to do. Never before had he felt so utterly helpless. He noticed that she'd stopped shivering. "Are you any warmer?"

She let out a breath. "Thank you."

"No problem, muse." He was still brushing his hand along her temple. "Keep your eyes open, though. Talk to me about something." She didn't seem to be completely coherent, and he needed her to remain awake as long as she possibly could. There was no way he was allowing her to slip into a coma. Not now, not ever.

"About what?" She managed through gritted teeth.

"Anything you deem fit." He told her, hand still putting pressure on the shoulder that wasn't dislocated, the one that was bleeding. He tried not to clench his jaw when he thought of what Anderson had done to her.

"Your hand is warm." She finally said; it sounded like a question but she said it with the ghost of a smile.

"Oh, you _did_ hit your head, Kate." He teased, his eyes going towards the stairs. He thought that he could hear the sounds of sirens, but it might have been wishful thinking. Either way, he planned to keep her talking for just awhile longer: if not to keep her awake, it seemed to be taking her mind off the pain. "Have you ever had home-baked cookies?"

That seemed to stump her. "What?"

"Alexis. She bakes, pretty well. And trust me, you're going to be getting a batch."

"She knows?" Her head was still resting against the cement floor.

"She found you." He admitted, to which Beckett finally lifted her eyes to him. "Insisted on coming along with me to the precinct, went through complaint files and found Andersons'. We connected him back to the Nikki Heat website. About which I am so-"

"Save your apologies for when I'm half awake and can tell you that you don't need them, Castle." There was another small smile before she grimaced at the longer sentence and sighed. "Maybe attacking him wasn't a good idea." She whispered.

There were definitely sirens in the air now. They sang overhead; more than sirens on this occasion, they sang the end of this ordeal. He could imagine the neighbors, their eyes going to their windows as an ambulance went past them to a house that they knew. Some of them would ignore it; others would step outside and see the police car, see their neighbor being hauled away. Questions would begin; more officers would have to be called in to control a growing crowd. Castle was glad to be able to get Beckett out of here before that.

"They're almost here." He assured her when he saw her eyes beginning to close again. _Keep her talking_. "I know you hate hospitals, but it's necessary this time."

There were the sounds of people hurrying above them; he heard Ryan's voice.

"It's just the paramedics and Ryan." He answered the confusion that he saw in her eyes. There was definitely a concussion involved; he could see the symptoms plainly. It was the question of how bad the concussion was that worried him now. They were moving closer to the stairs now; their footsteps were growing louder, closer.

In the same instant they were there, coming down the same stairs that he had moments ago, bringing a stretcher with them.

He didn't wait for them to ask him to move out of the way, as perhaps Jameson Rook would have done in a Nikki Heat novel. No, he let them in immediately, not wanting to waste any more minutes. He noticed that her green eyes followed him when he backed away and made sure to stay in her line of sight.

The medics – two women, a blonde and a brunette – made quick work of getting her onto the stretcher. Castle gritted his teeth along with Beckett, wincing every time that she did as if her pain was his own. By the time that she was strapped to the stretcher and they were carrying her towards the stairs, she was unconscious again.

When she was out of sight, Richard Castle slid down the wall, his knees to his chest, his forehead resting on his knees. He'd never felt so useless, he'd never felt so afraid before. When Alexis was younger and had hit her head on the kitchen table, she'd been up and talking in seconds, trying to convince her father, at eight years old, that she didn't need to go to the hospital. He'd taken her anyway.

This was so much different from that; it'd left him shaken. He wasn't aware of how long he sat there, on the cold floor that she'd been on only moments ago, but it couldn't have been more than two or three minutes when the brunette paramedic appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Mr. Castle?"

He raised his eyes to the woman. "Yes, that's me." He answered, his heart beginning to pound again. Had something gone wrong? Was she … he didn't allow himself to finish the sentence before the brunette spoke again.

"She's awake, sir. She won't leave unless you're in the ambulance."

_Author's Note: _

_I think that many of you believe we're in the last chapters of the story. __**We're not**__. This story is nowhere near completed, and while I won't tell you what we have in store, just trust me that there is plenty of comfort, and plenty of story left to tell. I plan on bringing Alexis back in. Perhaps with cookies. *wink* Maybe if I get enough response there'll be an Alexis' cookies recipe involved in the author's note of that chapter. There might be several recipes. Do I hear a yes for Castle's Home-Made Store-Bought Mac N' Cheese? Okay, so I'm getting ahead of myself there. _

_I'd really like to thank all of you for the response that I've been receiving. Several people said that they wouldn't mind if the chapters were longer, so I've tried to do that here. I hope that you liked the result. _

_Please, please, review. This chapter took a lot to write so I'd love to know what you honestly think of it. The more reviews the merrier: remember, if you're not reviewing I don't know that you're reading, and I love to hear from my readers. If there are suggestions that you have, please suggest them. I'd love to hear them and I'll try to respond to as many reviews as I possibly can. I believe that I responded to all but three reviews last chapter, the last three I didn't have the time to because I was in school. _

_Oh, and if you're an anonymous reviewer: you are very much appreciated! _


	9. Usually

**Shattered**

"Before I disappear  
Whisper in my ear  
Give me something to echo  
In my unknown futures ear."  
-The End by Pearl Jam

He'd never rode in the back of an ambulance before. He'd taken rides in plenty of obscure vehicles: limousines, Porsches, and more recently, nearly had been shot in the back of a Medical Examiner Van along with Lanie. The fear of that day didn't come close to matching the fear that he felt as he pulled himself into the back of the ambulance.

The brunette paramedic came into the ambulance behind him and closed the door, saying to the blonde in the driver's seat, "All set to go, Callie." The ambulance began to move forward.

Kate's stretcher was against the right side of the ambulance. Her green eyes were closed; her face was pale. The brace on her neck seemed wrong, strange; it didn't belong there. There was already an IV taped to the pale underside of her arm.

The paramedic moved to Kate's side. "Detective Beckett, I need you to open your eyes again." She had a calm voice but there was an urgent edge to it. "Richard Castle's right here, detective."

"Hey, Kate." He spoke for the first time since entering the ambulance, coming to stand next to her head. "I'm sorry, but you need to be awake for just awhile longer. It's important." There was no teasing or joking in his words now.

She moaned: as much of an irritated sound as it was a pained one. The brace, however, disabled her from turning her head away as she might in another situation. Her hands were untied, lying unmoving by her sides, and he took the hand that wasn't connected to her still dislocated shoulder. There was a bandage on the shoulder that had been cut by Anderson's knife. Castle squeezed her fingers.

Her eyes opened and she blinked several times, looking from person to person. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but no words left her lips. Beckett's green eyes were dazed.

"Welcome back, detective." The paramedic said to her. The nametag on her shirt read 'Gina'. She took a small light and flashed it in front of the detective's eyes. Beckett blinked several times. "Your responses are good." Gina noted, writing it down on the chart.

"Castle."

The man in question smiled – a cheeky sort of grin. "You didn't want to leave without me, did you?" He teased, though it sounded more tired and less spirited than it usually did. In truth, it wasn't even truly teasing, but somehow the way he said it was more natural, more like the relationship that the two of them had. It made things feel less wrong.

"Shut up, Castle." Her sentence was ended with a wince. Leave it to her to be in pain and still be telling him to shut up.

"Will do, mam." Seconds later, however, he was speaking again. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better." She answered weakly, adding a sarcastic, "You?"

Plenty of answers ran through the writer's mind. He was alright, his heart was racing a million miles an hour, he was worried about Alexis, he wanted to know that she was alright, he was …

"Glad you're alive, Kate." It was the most truthful answer that he could think of. He was glad that she was alive, because after all the things he'd seen while following her, he'd never seen something as scary as what had happened today.

--

"Detective! Detective Esposito!"

Alexis Castle stood from the chair where she'd been nervously sitting for longer than she'd have liked. Like her father, her heart was racing faster than normal. One of the detectives had given her a legal pad and she'd taken to scribbling on it, but her mind had always been on where her father was – on if he'd found Kate yet.

She'd lost too many people. They were always leaving her behind. Alexis pretended that it didn't bother her; that seeing her mother once in a blue moon was alright with her, but then it'd hit her: usually when she overheard a friend talking about how she and her mother had gone and got her nails done.

She even wished for the other things, the things that her friends complained about: fights and awkward conversations about boys that they didn't want to have. Maybe she didn't want to have them either, but she'd have liked to have the chance. She'd never had that chance.

She'd always been happy, though, with her dad and her grandma. Usually it was normal, normal for her, and she wouldn't change a thing about the life that she lived.

Usually.

Her mother had left when she was little. Her father had had some girlfriends – woman that she usually approved of – but they always left, eventually, sometimes just when she got used to having them around.

She didn't want Kate to leave them, too. Alexis knew that Detective Beckett wasn't her father's girlfriend, she wasn't like the others, but she'd come to like having her around. She counter-acted some of her father's craziness. Sometimes. And Kate had told her that she could come to her with anything.

"Alexis," Esposito said. He'd come through the door of the precinct only moments ago, Ryan wasn't with him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She insisted, moving away from the desk and going towards him. "What about my Dad?" She took a breath before she said, "What about Kate? Ryan?" There was more chance there that she'd hear an answer she didn't want to hear.

"We found her. Your Dad's fine, Alexis. We made him stay in the car. Ryan's alright, too. He's got Anderson. Kate's on her way to the nearest hospital. Your Dad's going with her in the ambulance."

"But they're both okay." She pressed, tilting her head to the side. "I'm not a child, okay? Tell me."

He sighed. "I know. If it wasn't for you we wouldn't have made it there when we did, Alexis, and we're lucky that we did.. Beckett was unconscious when we got there, and she's pretty beat up, but she'll make it. Alright?"

Alexis nodded, wiping away tears with the heel of her hand. "I want to go to the hospital, please."

"Why do you think I'm here?"

_Author's Note: _

_I'm sorry, once again, that there were no updates. However, I've got the entire week off from school , so I'll be updating frequently throughout the next week. I had a friend sleep over this weekend and wasn't able to update during that time. _

_I want to tell you all how AWESOME you are for all of the reviews during for last chapter. Having you guys review is like Christmas. In fact, there are several days when I've been almost late for my bus because I needed to check my reviews at six in the morning. _

_Like I said, I didn't get to update throughout the weekend, which means that I didn't get to respond to reviews, either, but I'll respond to your reviews for chapter eight later today. _

_Please review! (This chapter is for The Hush Sound. Congrat's, you're now a paramedic.) _


	10. Time

**Shattered**

""An author doesn't necessarily understand the meaning of his own story better than anyone else."  
-Alice in Wonderland

When they'd taken her away, she hadn't made a word of protest. He thought that maybe she was too weak to try. Her eyes, however – her eyes followed him, eyes that were struggling into be panicked. Her eyes conveyed what her brick wall would not allow her to say. Pent up emotion escaped there. He'd always written that eyes were the windows to a soul, but he'd never seen it in life. Until today. Until her.

Her eyes were in his mind as he waited. Around him, the human invention known as time ceased to exist. There was no time. Life existed in the measure of breaths taken, of nurses passing, of heartbeats. How was it that time still existed for others? How was it that others went on, existed, when he was at such a standstill, a virtual impasse? He was reminded of the horse that reared because it could not go backwards or forwards, only upwards.

Not knowing was so much worse than knowing.

"Dad!"

The appearance of Alexis started time again.

She was holding several things – a grocery bag from CVS in one hand, a bag from 7-11 in the other. She placed them both down by the legs of her father's chair before wrapping her arms around his neck. In that one second, she was a young child again. Everything was alright with her arms wrapped around her Dad.

Alexis pretended not to notice that her hands were shaking, because if she pretended that things were alright then maybe they would be. It was hard, though, because she knew that things weren't alright. She was a smart girl, she couldn't pretend for too long without it pushing back in on her like a breaking ocean wave. But she had to hold it off for as long as she could, or else she'd drown.

"Hey, sweetheart." He tried not to sound tired. "What've you got there?"

She smiled, lighting up. She was good at this: taking care of things, making things right. "Everything." She answered promptly, digging her hand into the bag from 7-11. "I figured you hadn't eaten yet, so …" she pulled out a water bottle and handed it to him. "Oh, and I got you some Twinkies, too." She handed him those and reached back into the bag. "I know she won't be able to eat these yet but I noticed she liked them. I tried to get bear claws but these were the best I could do." She handed her father the Hostess Snowballs.

Castle grinned. "You're observant."

"I'm your daughter. I was _brought up_ to be observant." Alexis teased before handing him the bag from CVS. "Pens and a notebook. You know, just in case."

"You're amazing."

"I know."

Castle finally noticed Esposito's presence, standing slightly behind Alexis.

"How is she?" The detective asked.

"No word yet." He answered. It felt like hours – no, days – since they'd taken her away, but in reality it had been only an hour and a half. "But she was conscious in the ambulance. Told me to shut up, actually."

Alexis grinned, but it was a faltering grin.

Esposito rubbed the back of his head. "Ryan will be awhile. He took Anderson into the precinct."

Nobody spoke for a moment. Alexis took the seat next to her father in silence, pulling a Jodi Picoult novel from the CVS back and curling her legs up to her chest. Esposito leaned back against the wall, his eyes wanting to close. It'd been the sort of day every cop dreaded having to face.

But they'd made it through. A bit damaged, in need of repair, but they were all breathing. They'd survived.

"Someone should call Lanie." Castle broke the silence by saying. "Let her know." His eyes went to Esposito.

"She's on vacation this week, visiting her sister in Seattle. Newborn niece. She'll be back in three days."

Castle sighed. "She'll kill us if we don't let her know."

"And Beckett will murder us if Lanie decides to cut her vacation short." Esposito said. "It's your call."

Alexis put down her novel. "I could call her." She'd met the medical examiner when she'd helped out at the precinct awhile back. "I can convince her not to come down." She held out her hand. "It can't _hurt_." Perhaps she would be better at it then a guy would.

Esposito's mouth twitched in a grin. "You know, you help out anymore and we're going to have to hire you."

"As long as it gets me out of school."

"By the way, school, you're going to that tomorrow." Castle reminded her. It was Sunday, and she had a history test the next day.

"Ugh." She muttered, stifling the argument begging to rise to the surface. "So … am I calling her?" She raised her brow, and Esposito handed her the phone. "Thank you." She disappeared into a more silent area – but one where her father could still keep an eye on her. After the day that he'd had today, she was sure that he'd appreciate it.

The phone rang twice before Lanie's voice came across the other end. "Hey. It's Lanie."

"Hi." She said, then added, "Don't freak out. It's Alexis Castle."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Freak out? Alexis, _why_ would I freak out? Who's hurt?"

"Everyone's okay," She began by assuring her, "but you have to promise me that you won't race down here, because then Kate'll kill my Dad for letting me call you."

"What happened?" Lanie said, and Alexis could imagine the medical examiner raising her eyebrows. There was no promise in Lanie's sentence, but Alexis continued.

"She's okay. Dad says she's hurt but she was awake in the ambulance." As an afterthought, she added, "She told him to shut up. Apparently." She almost smiled. Almost.

"She was shot." Lanie inferred with an edge to her voice.

"No, no." She quickly countered. "She was, uh, taken. From her apartment. But she's alright, Lanie. We got the guy." Alexis could almost see the woman on the other end of the line beginning to panic.

"Why isn't Esposito calling?"

"I promised I'd convince you not to leave Seattle." Alexis said, biting a nail. "She's not going to want you to do that. You know that." She prodded, leaning against a wall. "We both know that. It's just three days and then you'll be back."

"Alexis-"

"It's your newborn niece." She countered. "We'll take care of Beckett. I promise."

Alexis could almost see the older woman ponder it. "Girl, you are just as stubborn as your father."

--

_**Author's Note: **_

_I'm not as sure about this chapter as I am the rest – but I hope that you enjoyed it anyway. Let me know what you thought about it, please. It'd mean a lot to me. I debated cutting it off where it was - obviously I ended up doing that - because I figured you'd llike quality instead of quantity. Anyway, please review! _

_**Disclaimer**__: _

_Your author, SignedSealedWritten, is eighteen, and no way associated with the show. Just in case you were wondering. _


	11. Explain

Shattered

He closed his hand around the phone as his daughter ducked around him, back to her abandoned blue plastic hospital waiting room chair. The phone was hot in his hand and against his ear. Sunlight streamed through the double glass doors as EMTs wheeled another patient in. Another patient whose family would be left waiting among those whose sense of time had stopped, replaced by a sense of their own mortality.

"Castle." He spoke into the phone, his voice sounding strange to his ears.

"I know who it is, writer-boy." Lanie Parish said on the other end. "I want to know what the hell happened. I'm gone for barely two days and she's kidnapped. I deserve an explanation."

Castle winced, but filled in what his daughter had left open – leaving out the fear, the panic, the feeling of time having stopped.

He could hear Lanie sigh. "You're sure you don't need me to come back to New York City?" There was a pause before she spoke again. "Because I could. She won't be happy about it but I could. I'm her best friend, Castle. I should probably be there."

He could hear the hesitance in her voice. "Lanie, think about it." He spoke honestly. "She's not going to want you to leave three days early." Castle rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll take care of things." He promised, eyes on Alexis and Esposito.

"You'll take care of things." She repeated.

"I will." He promised again. "I'll take care of her." He could almost hear Lanie Parish raise her eyebrows. "And it's not like you can't talk to her. I'll have her talk to you as soon as she can."

He heard her release a breath. "I am putting my faith in you, Castle. Take care of her." And the line clicked shut.

He filled his lungs with air through his nose and then released it through his mouth. The extra oxygen allowed him to see more clearly for a second, just a small second, and he returned to where Esposito and Alexis waited. Castle handed the phone back to Esposito.

"She wants updates, but she'll stay with her sister." He updated Esposito, who nodded once before leaning back against the wall.

Alexis curled so that her head rested on her father's shoulder, the novel she'd been reading open in her lap. The fifteen year old wrapped an arm around her middle. It was all that she could do now to hop that what Esposito had said was true – that they'd found her in time. Her father put an arm around her shoulder.

Several agonizing minutes passed – time during which Castle did not pick up his notebook to write. The thought would cross his mind at times and he immediately shoved I aside. He couldn't imagine lifting the pen. Time passed in the outside world, but was different for him: every minute both an hour and a second. Ten turned to ten thirty without his knowledge. They'd found her at 8:03, he knew that much. Both he and Alexis were early risers; he'd received the call from Esposito at six I the morning.

That made six hours she'd been held in that basement. Richard Castle's stomach rolled. How had Ethan Anderson thought he had the right? Castle's fingers flexed.

"Family of Katherine Beckett?"

A woman with dark hair and tan skin spoke. She looked tired, as if she'd worked too many shifts during the night, but her dark eyes were alert. They went from person to person in the waiting room. Castle's eyes shot up as if it had been his name called, but it was Esposito who found the words to speak first. Alexis sat up, closing the book.

"We're acting as family today." He said, holding out his badge. The woman took a long look at it before nodding once.

"Javier Esposito and Richard Castle." It wasn't a question, and both men nodded in response. "I was told to find you." The doctor pulled one of the blue chairs across from them and sat in it.

"How is she?" Alexis asked, the lines in her forehead deepening as she leaned forward. The girl rested her forearm on her legs. "She'll be alright?" Anxiety made her sound younger than she was.

The doctor smiled kindly. "Kate's going to be okay." Immediate relief washed over Castle's features. The woman continued to speak, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "She had a fever when you brought her in – not too high, but it's under control now. I had to tape her ribs and her ankle had to be set and put in a cast. Her shoulder was dislocated, too. "

The woman paused for a second, allowing them time to process what she was saying before she spoke again. "The cut on her shoulder from the knife was nasty, but it looked worse than it was. I cleaned it and stitched it, but she'll be sore."

Castle winced. He'd seen the cut for himself.

"And the concussion?" Esposito questioned, sounding worried.

"She was lucky. It wasn't too severe. We'll keep her overnight for observation, but I'd recommend she has someone to stay with."

Castle's eyes flickered to Esposito. That could be a problem, with Lanie away. Even if she was here, it wasn't like Detective Beckett was someone who wanted to admit she needed help. With her ankle broken and in a cast, and the problem with her dislocated shoulder voiding the possibility of her using crutches, mobility was going to be hard for her as well. "We'll find someone." The writer promised, already putting the journal and pen that Alexis had bought for him back into the bag that they'd come in. He stood, placing them on the chair behind him. "Can she have visitors?" He wanted to know, a slight impatience prominent in his voice.

That brought a smile to the doctor's face. "She can. I'd prefer it, actually. One at a time would be best. She's been trying to convince me she's alright to leave."

Esposito rolled his eyes. "Alright, that sounds like Beckett."

**_Author's Note_**_: _

_There were several things that disallowed me from posting much during this past week. One would be that this chapter would have been posted much earlier today, if my internet had been working. It hadn't been working, though, so that's why this chapter is posted at nine thirty instead of eight in the morning. _

_The second is that I had family over today, so even when my internet **did** work, I wasn't able to post it. _

_And the third was that I'm horrible and a procrastinator. But now that we're past this difficult chapter, the updates should be more frequent. _

_Oh, if any of you read Criminal Minds stories, there's something that I'd love to ask of you, if you think me worthy! I've been nominated for the 2009 Criminal Minds FanFiction awards – there's a link on my page to where you can vote for me and my stories. I've been nominated for Best New Author, and one of my stories, The Art of Butterflies, was voted for best work in progress. Another one of my stories, Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks, was nominated for best Team Fic. _

_Obviously, that's only if you read Criminal Minds fics and want to vote for me. Check out some of the other categories, too! _

_Please, all I ask is for you to review. All of you have been amazing. By the way, you don't have to have an account to review – I accept anonymous reviews as well. _


	12. Innuendo

**Shattered **

She was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, both of her legs swung over the edge. The cast on her ankle was bulky and strange and restricted her movement. She was still pale, too pale, and her hair clung to the sides of her face. There was a large, bulky bandage on her shoulder and the other arm was in a sling from the dislocated shoulder.

"Look," She said in the voice that he'd be able to recognize anywhere. It was _her_ voice, and it was the voice she used to boss people around. "Just let me out of the bed. I'm perfectly fine and able to go home." She hadn't seemed to notice Castle standing in the doorway, most likely because her whole attention was focused on trying to stand with a broken ankle. It was also quite likely that her attention had been stolen by pain medications – a situation that would have been amusing if not for the danger of hours before and the pain she had to be in now.

The dark haired man in scrubs attempting to help was several inches shorter than Castle. He was standing slightly to the side of Kate, a hand held out in a way of asking her to stop. "Miss Beckett, you have a mild concussion and you can't stand up, not to mention the broken ribs. We can't have you leave the hospital." The man turned to see the writer standing in the doorway. "Sir, if you could-"

He was already nodding his head, moving past the man to stand in her line of vision.

"Castle, I'm perfectly able to go home." She repeated, to him this time, but she clenched her jaw tight when she finished the sentence. "I can't stay here."

Knowing that his chances of walking out of the room without some sort of physical injury inflicted on him were next to impossible, Castle placed his hands on either of her upper arms. It wasn't difficult for the writer to see that a deep part of her was panicking at having to stay in the hospital. He knew that she didn't like them – for most people in law enforcement, hospitals meant realizing their own mortality.

Throwing caution to the wind, he rubbed a hand up and down her arm. "Beckett, you and I both know that's not true. Its only one night." He offered her a small smile. "I know you hate them, but this is a necessary precaution." He had no idea where the speaking as if he were a doctor had come from – perhaps from writing so many scenes similar to this.

"Castle, get your hands off of me, and let me leave the hospital." She was breathing too quickly, pained as a result.

He took one last chance in not removing his hands from her arms. "You're having a panic attack." His voice was calming, the words were spoken slowly. "Take a breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. _Slowly_." He knew that having broken ribs was a horrible experience, but if she kept breathing as quickly as she was, he feared that she would pass out.

He was surprised when she listened to him – a deep breath in and out. He wasn't sure if he was imagining the color returning to her cheeks. "I honestly don't like hospitals. They won't let me sleep. They won't let me out of this room." Exhaustion colored her words and her head sunk forward a bit. He was sure that if she wasn't on pain medication and wasn't exhausted beyond belief she wouldn't be saying as much as she was.

"I'll be right here, and I'll help you stay awake." He promised, trying not to let anger color his words red. Why did it have to be her – why did it have to be _his detective_ that got injured? _Oh, because she's the muse for your character and your stalker read the books. That's why_.

"Was that an innuendo?"

"If you want it to be, Kate." Castle winked, placing his hand on her back, the other beneath her knees. He apologized profusely when she winced as he helped her lay back on the bed. From the corner of his eye, Richard Castle could see the amazement on the face of the man by the heart monitor. He'd done what the expert had failed to do. Nodding to the man in a signal that he could leave, Castle pulled the thin white sheet over her, resisting the urge to tuck her in as if she were a child. Her head rested against the pillow, but she didn't look the least bit happy about it.

"Not exactly how I imagined you getting me into bed, Castle." There was a lilt to her voice that he'd never heard before. He offered her a tired smile before pulling a cushioned chair next to the bed.

Oh, yes, she was definitely on heavy pain medication: and it probably wasn't her choice, either. He knew for a fact that if she'd had the choice she would have stubbornly refused any and all medication. He honestly hoped he didn't hear anything she wouldn't want him to hear, because the woman in question carried a gun and probably didn't need one to take him down.

**Author's Note: **

_Necessary bridging chapter, sorry. I hope you enjoyed it even though it was shorter and didn't contain much. If there's something that you want to see – in the future chapters or in the near future chapters, please let me know! I know where this story is headed and several important events involved in that, but a lot of moments could still be filled in by suggestions. _

_And please, please review! You don't need an account to do so, and I'd love to hear from you. _


	13. Medicine

**Shattered**

"You're talking to a man who's laughed in the face of death, sneered at doom, and chuckled at catastrophe... I was petrified."

-The Wizard of Oz

"I can't feel much."

The admission left the detective's lips moments after the man checking her vitals had left. Beckett's green eyes danced from the door to Castle, her mind clouded by pain medication. He could see confusion in her eyes – whether at her current situation or an inner musing he was unaware of he did not know.

"That's a good thing right now." Castle squeezed the fingers of the hand closest to him in assurance. "See how good it is when you don't refuse medication?" He teased, winking.

"I'm not on medication." She insisted as she furrowed her brow. "I don't want to be on _anything_. I don't like being on pain medication."

"Trust me," The writer said with the ghost of a grin. "You're drugged, Beckett."

She groaned her eyes roaming to the ceiling. "You don't have to stay here. Not that I mind you being here. But _I _don't want to be here, so _you_ certainly must not want to be here." There was a pause before she spoke again. "Unless … you like me, Castle."

Richard Castle rubbed the back of his neck in a somewhat nervous manner. "Just a warning, your future self is going to look back and regret this. You probably want to hold your tongue." If the circumstance was different, he'd have liked to hear where she took that sentence, but he wasn't willing to put her through any more humiliation today. Kate was a private woman – she wouldn't want him to be hearing things she said under the influence of morphine and other like drugs.

"Why's that, kitten?" There was a smile on her lips – but he didn't fail to notice that the smile didn't reach her eyes. "What am I going to regret? Did I say something you don't want to hear?" She'd probably been given medication at around nine in the morning. He wanted to keep that smile in place as long as he could, because once it and the pain meds were gone, she was in for hell.

"Whatever you're about to say, you won't remember later." He tapped the side of his skull. "But I will, and trust me, you won't want that." He held out a hand. "I'm being respectful, take it or leave it."

"How does _Nikki Heat_ react to pain meds?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

He groaned, placing his palm over his face. "Good question." His eyes went to the clock on the wall: already eleven thirty in the morning. He'd sent Alexis home to Martha and didn't plan to leave until she kicked him out. Besides, she needed someone to keep her awake, and it was better him than a nurse.

"Hmm," She said, but her green eyes were sharper – clearer. "Perhaps we'll find out in book two."

"Book three, Kate." He used her first name without thinking, but the detective didn't make a note of it. "Book two is already on its way to being on the shelves. _Summer Heat_."

"I saw the cover." Her green eyes blinked at him, and he felt his breath leave his lungs.

"It's a bit, uh," He scratched the back of his head, huffing a breath. "Promiscuous."

Kate Beckett chuckled – an honest to God _chuckle_ – before saying, "I was going to say 'slutty', Castle."

It was only minutes later that the smile slipped from her face, the corners of her mouth turning down. Castle sat forward in the chair. The detective's brow had furrowed and she shifted against the bed. The medication had to be wearing off; Castle grimaced for her. He filled his lungs with air and let it out in a sigh. This was the moment he'd been dreading.

"I'm feeling things now."

He squeezed her fingers. "I thought so." He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. "Do you want me to get someone?" He'd switched modes again – from teasing partner to a protector: being what she needed him to be.

"It hurts." She moaned as an answer, sounding puzzled, not sure why that should be. Her green eyes traveled to her shoulder. "Stings, too." Exhaustion had returned to her words. "No medicine, Castle."

"Beckett."

"I hate being drugged." She insisted.

"I know, but you'll be in pain." He warned, still rubbing the back of her hand. "More than right now – your ankle is broken and a couple of ribs." He was used to seeing Alexis sick or hurt – he knew how to deal with those situations – but this was a different sort of heartbreak. The last thing he wanted was for her to be in pain if she didn't need to be. "I think you want the medication."

She shook her head before grimacing and attempting to bring a hand up to touch her skull. Beckett winced and gave up the attempt. "I can handle it, Castle." Already it seemed more of the pain meds were wearing off – her nails were biting into her palms.

"Are you sure?" He questioned.

She looked away from him and towards the ceiling. "You'll stay?" There was vulnerability in her voice, something he'd never heard before: even though she was trying to disguise it.

"I'll stay." He assured her, allowing a small smile. "Who else is going to pull your pigtails, detective?"

"And here… I was thinking … you were being mature." Her mouth pulled into a tight line, not matching at all with the sentence she'd said. She looked so tired, the words didn't match her.

"I'm like a twelve year old, what do you want from me?" He teased, attempting to distract her. Her fingers brushed over her broken ribs. "Actually, if you _would_ like something from me, don't be shy about letting me know."

He winked and she put on a face that his mind acquitted with someone that had swallowed something repulsive. Her face quickly turned to an expression of pain and she looked away again, fidgeting.

"Hey, why don't I distract you?" He offered innocently. "I've been told I'm a great story teller."

The detective rolled her eyes, but even that seemed to cause her pain. "By who, Castle, your mother?"

"Actually, she likes to tell me the opposite of what New York Times tells me. Keeps my feet on the ground." His mouth twitched in a smile as the detective pursed her lips.

"Not another of your mysteries, Castle. I've had too many during work."

"Not even a Nikki Heat story, detective?" He whined, a smile rising to his lips at the fact that her face was no longer a mask of pain.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Castle."

He made a show of sighing. "Fine, fine." He ran a hand through his hair before beginning his story. "There was once a princess named Kate…"

He was glad she didn't have her weapon with her.

_**Author's Note: **_

_Again, it seems like an inconsequential chapter, but it's not. There are a few things in here that will come back up later – and plenty of you have commented on the fact that Castle is going to be taking care of Beckett, and I'd like to affirm that he __**is**__ going to be taking care of her. And I have several adorable scenes planned out, and several angsty ones, and if you have an idea for one, don't be afraid to let me know. _

_There's something that I wanted to say – _oh!_ I've now officially gotten two people into Castle. __**Two people**__. How many can _you_ get into Castle?_

_So I feel as if I've been losing some reviewers. I hope that's not true – but thanks for reviewing, as always! _


	14. Twenty Questions

**Shattered**

Pain radiated through her abdomen and raced through her leg into her ankle, making the world dizzy. There was no doubt in the detective's mind that the painkillers they'd given her had worn of completely. The shoulder that had been dislocated was now in a sling, but it throbbed as if someone had taken a hammer to it. She knew that if the fingers of that hand went numb, she was in danger, but her fingers were far from numb. Pain radiated down to the tips of her fingers. The shoulder with the gash was close to feeling as if it was on fire, and it pulled every time she moved an inch.

If she weren't still pretending to be infallible, all of it would have been enough to draw tears, but she was pretending. For Castle. For herself. As it was, she'd shown him more of her vulnerable side than she'd wanted to.

She had to admit that it was nice having him there. He knew how to do this – he was a single father, for Heaven's sake – and he knew the right balance. At the same time as he wasn't allowing her to up and leave the hospital, he was also allowing her to fake strength, something of comfort to her. Lanie, as great of a friend as she was, would have been different. She'd have forced her to take the drugs. The balance that Castle allowed her to have wouldn't have been there.

And he was distracting her, hadn't stopped talking since he'd sat down. It was annoying as hell, but she'd have fallen asleep otherwise and God knows what would have happened then.

And she allowed him, telling herself that it was for his sake but knowing that it was for her own. Never in her years as a detective had she been so shaken – there was a difference between being afraid for someone else's life, being frightened for your own life, and being _terrified – _one of those things she didn't plan to let on but was helped by the fact that _he_ was there.

His fingers were touching hers as he spoke. In another situation, she'd have told him to "take a hike", but his fingers were _warm_. And whenever she winced or cringed or a doctor came in to check the bandage – during which he politely averted his eyes – he squeezed her fingers. She hadn't had something like that since she was twelve and had come down with the flu, and she was too tired to put up the act for Castle that she minded.

Because she didn't mind, not really. In fact, it was … _thoughtful_, not that she'd let that fact get to his ears any time soon. There was a limit to all of it, after all.

Kate had once heard that it took twenty odd days to get used to a new routine. Her entire life was based on routine. Routine was stable, good, for a cop whose world was often unstable and dangerous. Get up, grab coffee, go to work. Even the homicides could be routine in procedure and technicalities. Most of the time, she liked the routine. It let her breathe.

Richard Castle had thrown a wrench into everything that she knew. Twenty days was nowhere near long enough to feel in routine. With Castle, there _was_ no routine. Everything was different every single day. She could pretend to hate it until she was blue in the face, but it would do nothing or the fact that she'd begun to like having him around, have comfort in the fact that he was around. Castle was _different_, which might have won an award for understatement of the year.

It wasn't something she'd admit to him on a regular basis, but Richard Castle, crime writer extraordinaire, was proving himself to be an excellent partner.

Her green eyes went to the clock on the wall – three pm. Time had passed, though she was unsure of how. Doctors and nurses had been in and out, checking, prodding, and generally getting on Kate's nerves.

"Best book you've ever read." She questioned – a back and forth game they'd been playing for the past half hour. Every time she spoke, pain flashed across her midsection, and she was sure that he had noticed by now. Talking was better than silence, for the moment. Silence reminded her of hours ago, when she'd woken up somewhere she didn't recognize.

Unlike the time spent in the waiting room, time was now lingering, every minute seeming to last for two instead of one, longer if he was able to notice the pain behind the careful façade that she'd reconstructed around herself.

"Oh, there's no way I could answer that." There was a jump in his voice when he spoke. "I mean, Beckett, there are _thousands_ of books out there – Stephen King novels, and then there are the _classics_ –"

"Okay, alright." She managed not to laugh. "Wrong question for the book fanatic, I'm guessing."

"Not wrong, just a difficult one to answer. Technically you get to ask me another, now. Make it good."

"Make it good?" She repeated, pausing for a second – both to give herself time to regain the strength to speak and to think of an question that would pass for 'good'. "Alright, Castle. Favorite book _you've written_."

"Now you're making them easy." He teased, a smile lifting his lips. "_Heat Wave_, of course."

To her horror, she felt herself blush ridiculously.

For her sake, he pretended not to notice. Any other day, and the moment would have been _golden. _"It's my turn for a question, Beckett."

"Shoot." She realized the irony in that sentence and tried not to laugh in favor of not being in debilitating pain.

"The doctor said you could eat?" Another upward tilt of his lips.

"What kind of a question is that?"

"One you're obligated to answer."

"Yes." She answered, baffled by the writer's question. "But what kind of a question is-" In that moment, Kate's eyes flickered towards the doorway, which was no longer empty.

"One my Dad asks when I'm bringing cookies."

_Author's Note: _

_First off: yes, I suck. I haven't updated in close to a week and this chapter … ugh, I'm so unsure about it. I've reworked it about five times and still I'm not happy with it. I'd truly appreciate it if you'd let me know what you thought of this one. _

_Reviews equal cookies. Which will be present in the next chapter. As will a recipe in the author's note. (Another note: think you have the best chocolate chip cookie recipe? Lemme know. I just might include it.) _


	15. Cookies

**Shattered**

Alexis' homemade chocolate chip cookies were a hit, despite Ryan crashing and stealing a good portion before slipping away to the precinct again. One of their ongoing cases had finally caught a lead, and both Ryan and Esposito were needed back. Neither had been happy about it – despite the lead being a promising one – but they hadn't had a choice in the matter. It meant castle was solely responsible now for making sure the woman in question didn't up and leave the hospital. Though he wasn't about to let it on, he took the responsibility as seriously as if it were her life at stake. In a way, it was.

"So what's the verdict, Detective Beckett?"

Alexis Castle was perched on the window sill, her legs curled up underneath her. The empty tin of chocolate chip cookies was resting on her lap; her blue eyes were on the detective. It was disconcerting, to see a woman she'd come to know as strong look so weak, but she pushed past it.

"They're lovely, Alexis, and you can call me Kate. You saved my life today."

A small smile passed over Alexis' face. "I didn't save your life, not really. Dad and Detectives Ryan and Esposito did that." The fifteen year old shrugged her shoulders. "I just stayed at the precinct."

Her father shook his head, turning to look at her. "Alexis, you made the connection to him." He paused for a moment before smiling wickedly – the smile of a two year old whose thoughts had just turned to mischief. "I _did_ play a part in saving your life, Beckett. Can _I_ call you Kate?"

"In your dreams." She responded with a wicked smile to match his, but it was easy to see the effort she had to put into maintaining it.

"Oh, no fair!"

"_She_ baked for me." Kate winked at Alexis, who laughed. This – it was easier than she'd expected it to be. She'd thought conversation would be hard, but it wasn't. That being said, Alexis knew a thing or two about medicine – and broken ribs took a _long_ time to heal, six weeks at least, plus there was the shoulder and the ankle. She'd be in a wheelchair.

And despite being stubborn, nobody could pull that off on her own. Plus there was the fact that she sincerely liked Kate – _and_ how her Dad acted around her. He was _happy_.

She liked seeing him happy, and not in the immature way that he usually was, but actual genuine happiness.

"That I did. "Alexis answered, shooting a grin at her Dad. "And look where it got me. You should try baking, Dad."

"I make the best ice cream sundae this side of New York City." He boasted.

"He does, actually. It's frightening." Aqua blue eyes flashed back to Kate, who was trying to pretend that she wasn't grimacing.

"Hey Dad, could you get us something to drink?" Alexis tilted her head to one side as she asked the question, and her father responded with a look that meant, _'What are you planning'_ – but he knew by now to comply with what she asked of him.

"Yeah – water good?"

She nodded, watching as her father exited, and then turned towards the detective. The fifteen year old wasted no time in getting to her point. "You can't go back to your apartment." When the woman opened her mouth to protest, Alexis held up a finger. "Let me finish." There was something close to amusement in Kate's eyes. "You're not going to be able to walk, or reach too high. Your apartment isn't cleaned yet. So unless you want to die of starvation in a dirty apartment…" Alexis trailed off, tapping her fingers on the window sill.

"I've got nowhere to go _but_ my apartment, Alexis."

"Not true, actually." She responded quickly with a shake of her head. "We have a guestroom."

She saw the confusion pass over Kate's face, and then the shock and denial – nothing less than what Alexis had expected.

"Alexis, I could never-"

"Oh, don't worry." She assured. "it wouldn't be imposing. We'd love to have you." She nodded affirmatively before saying, "My grandma, too."

"I'm touched, but-"

"Please?"

Kate paused at the unexpected question. It hung in the air for a moment before the girl spoke again. "I want … to make sure this goes _right_."

It must have been something in the teen's voice that forced Kate to reconsider, if only for a moment – that something in that sentence didn't mean she was talking about Kate's recovery, but something else altogether. She saw Alexis smile at her hesitance.

"Plus, there are more cookies where these come from."

Kate barely managed to escape the pains of laughter. "Alright." She conceded at last with the feeling that she might regret this decision. "Your Dad ever tell you that you're quite persuasive."

"All the time." Alexis leaned forward and slid off of the window sill as her father reentered the room. The red-head snatched a water bottle from his hand with a grin and said, "Cookies _always_ win, don't you know that? Say hello to our newest house guest."

_**Author's Note**__: _

_I'm so sorry that I haven't gotten the chance to upload this chapter yet – it's been written for days and I haven't had the chance to type it. I never plan to go this long without an update again. I have this entire upcoming week off, so that won't be a problem at all. _

_Please let me know how you liked or didn't like this chapter, and reviews are love. _

_Oh, and of course, here's a recipe, taken from . I claim no ownership to it – email me for the direct link. _

**Ingredients**

1 cup butter flavored shortening  
3/4 cup white sugar  
3/4 cup brown sugar  
2 eggs  
2 teaspoons Mexican vanilla extract  
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour  
1 teaspoon baking soda  
1 teaspoon salt  
2 cups milk chocolate chips

**Directions**

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease cookie sheets.

In a large bowl, cream together the butter flavored shortening, brown sugar and white sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well with each addition, then stir in the vanilla .Combine the flour, baking soda and salt; gradually stir into the creamed mixture. Finally, fold in the chocolate chips. Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto the prepared cookie sheets.

Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven, until light brown. Allow cookies to cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.


	16. Sweet Home

**Shattered**

"You've actually got the nerve to enjoy this, don't you?" She complained as they left the warm air of the hospital behind them. Colder air hit them like a wall. "You're enjoying this."

Richard Castle leaned in close to whisper coyly in her ear. "I'm finally pushing _you_ around for a change, Detective." His lips just brushed her hair.

She blew out a breath through closed teeth. "Castle, just push me down the _stairs_ and save yourself the trouble of the ramp."

"And bring forth all the paperwork that includes? Sorry, Beckett, but you're stuck with me." He head towards the ramp in front of the hospital, there specifically for the use of wheelchair confined patients. He knew what this was – her, being defensive because she was vulnerable and hated it. He could see that much in her posture, hear it in her voice.

His attempts at humor were the least that he could do to distract her.

What he _wanted_ to do – what he had wanted to do from the second he'd lay his eyes on her was wrap his arms around her, let her rest her head on his shoulder, and tell her that she didn't have to be strong. He wanted to promise her safety.

The writer was nothing if not a romantic.

"Are we riding in your Porsche, Castle?" The question was innocent enough but he caught the motive behind it: concealment, a question meant to distract him from the way she turned her head either way at the end of the ramp, checking and double checking the parking lot. That small insecurity caused a pull in his stomach.

He played into her concealment, allowing her to believe that he hadn't noticed. They'd talk about it later, if she needed to, when she was ready.

"Nope. Not this time, Beckett." He nodded his head towards the parking lot. At eleven in the morning, the lot was relatively full of vacant cars – workers, patients, visitors. Castle's Porsche was not among them.

The car that the writer referred to was not his own. It was familiar to Beckett – because she'd spent three or so years in it, because it was her police vehicle. Castle jingled the keys at her eye level.

"Do I want to know how you managed to do that?"

"Relax, fair maiden, I didn't steal your car. Though if you wish to arrest me, I-"

"I've got a _gun_, Castle." The statement shut Castle's mouth instantly. "And I'm more than capable of using it."

"Ryan and Esposito." He answered simply with a twirl of the keys. "The wheelchair wasn't going to fit in the Porsche."

"Ah. I see." There was detectable disappointment in the woman's voice, but he had no chance to goad her on it before they'd arrived at the car and she was trying to rise from the chair.

He sighed considerably, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness and moving in to help.

--

Getting her into the car was one thing.

Getting her _home_ was another.

He drove slowly – not a problem with the traffic in New York City – but it either didn't help or it was bad enough not to matter how carefully he drove. When he was able to steal a glance at the gone-silent Beckett, he saw her head pressed against the headrest, green eyes lightly closed. He would have bet his home she was holding her breath.

He longed to stroke her back, soothe her, but he didn't' dare. The arm not in a sling was wrapped around her stomach, but he was sure it could go to her gun in less than three seconds. Instead, he willed the vehicle to glide over any bumps in the road, but his luck didn't hold. Every pothole left him gritting his teeth and feeling personally responsible.

On most occasions, he loved the city. The people, the buildings … everything was so diverse, so fast-paced. In fact, he couldn't imagine living anywhere else. At the moment, though, all he wished for was the buildings and people to be gone and for the car to already be at the Castle residence. Why was every second seeming to take an hour?

They spent plenty of time in cars, going from precinct to scene, but never before had the car been filled with such an impenetrable silence. The sight of his home before them was welcomed with an inaudible sigh.

He'd never been quite so happy to see his home.

_Author's Note: _

_It was an awkward chapter, I know. I feel as if there's something missing from it, but I can't figure out what – I hope you'll keep reading, because the next chapter holds some awesomeness and plans to be quite longer than this one. Oh, and I think The Powers that Be were punishing me for hurting Beckett – I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and today at home, with what I believe was the flu. It wasn't a fun time, let me tell you. (A hint at how bad it was is that I _always_ want to write, no matter how I'm feeling. On Tuesday, I didn't even touch a pen or notebook.) _

_Reviews, though, would make it better. Reviews would make it SO much better that … that I'd even have to bake COOKIES for you. If that were possible. Or give you all KITTENS. Tiny, furry, baby kittens. _

_(Apparently, if I were a child of the Greek Gods, I'd be a child of Demeter, who is a Goddess of Wheat and the Harvest. And compassion, apparently. So it'd be funny if I baked cookies for all of you. Wheat. Flour. Dough. Cookies. Let me know if you have a different opinion of which god!child I'd be. I love mythology.) _


	17. Humble Abode

**Shattered**

"Welcome to the humble abode, detective."

She shook her head slightly, the muscles in her jaw jumping. "You and your family don't have to do this, Castle. As much as I appreciate all that you're doing-"

"Ah. Beckett." She'd stopped talking because he'd bent in front of her and the wheelchair, placing a finger on her lips. "You're just wasting your energy."

"Remove the finger or lose it, Castle. It's your choice."

"You wound me." He lifted the finger from her lips, feigning a hurt expression. His lower lip stuck out and he shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes on his shoes.

She raised her brow. "Ever try acting instead of writing?"

"Acting is mother's thing." He responded, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack. Save for the two of them, the house was empty of people. Martha was at rehearsal, and Alexis was – though begrudgingly – at school. Neither of them would be home until after three.

"Well, mi casa es su casa. There's a guest room on this floor, so you won't have to use the stairs. It's already made-up." He left out the fact that he hadn't made it up, but rather that Alexis had done so before she'd left for school. She'd gone in and out of the room for over an hour, filling it with various what-nots. He hadn't even had the chance to check what she'd done with it – because, since nine that morning, he'd been sitting in the parking lot of the hospital waiting for her to call and tell him she was all ready to go.

The same silence that had strangled them in the car found them here – a silence of things left unsaid, things he wouldn't pry her for until she was ready to speak. This, he knew, was already overwhelming – being entirely dependent on him and accepting his help. So far she'd refused his help at every possible situation, even though the shoulder injury disallowed her from using crutches. She'd walked her way from car to chair without a hand.

"Thank you, again. As soon as Lanie's home, I swear I'll-"

He shook his head as if he were amused. "Should I suggest help going from chair to couch or would that mere suggestion be better left unsaid?"

She sent him a look that answered the question as she rose from the wheelchair, close by to the couch. Still he hovered near, unwilling to move too far from her side. Stubborn as ever, she hopped one step, turned, and sat on the couch. The look she gave him was akin to a child having proved his parent wrong.

He couldn't help but smile. "Right. I'll go make us lunch." He moved to the kitchen, resisting the urge to walk backwards and keep an eye on her. "Alexis is the real cook of the family, but –" he shrugged. "I can do canned soup pretty well."

He snuck a peek over his shoulder while taking out a can. She was, thankfully, still sitting – but h didn't like how she looked. She was pale, and tired, as if she kept having the floor ripped right out from underneath her feet, leaving her lying crumpled.

He was selfishly grateful that she kept on standing back up.

--

He was aware of his fingers brushing hers ever so lightly when he handed her the bowl. His skin tingled where hers had met it just momentarily, and he wondered if she'd felt the same, strange connection. Trying to ignore it in classic Castle style, he sat on the other end of the couch, hand reaching for the remote.

"Old family recipe," He said seriously, turning on the flat screen T.V. and resisting the urge to turn to look at her.

"Of the Campbell's? I didn't know you were related." He could see her out of the corner of his eye, head tilted to the side and eyebrows raised.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." He teased, spinning the remote on a side table like a child might. "There's a lot of things you don't know about my family." He added after a moment, the whisper inviting.

Beckett rolled her eyes – an eye roll that he'd distinguished as being uniquely hers from the moment he'd met her. There were many things he'd distinguished as being _her_ – he was sure he'd be able to pick her voice from a crowd of a thousand. "You're like a child."

He couldn't help the smile. "One of the adorable ones you want to pick up and spin around?"

The responding flicker of a grin was worth everything. "Just turn on the TV, before I say something I regret."

He turned on the T.V. and the set buzzed to life. Flicking through channels lazily with a thumb, he turned his head towards her. "I won't regret anything you say." He winked, twirling the edge of his gray scarf that still hung around his neck. Alexis had once made a crack that both he and Beckett wore scarves constantly – and that they occasionally matched, as if their minds were always on the same length.

"Like I said, Castle. You're a child."

He narrowed his eyes at the screen in good humor. "You're the one with the chicken noodle soup." He muttered under his breath, knowing he was baiting her – but it was good to see her smile, never mind the damage potentially caused to him in the process. He'd already had to resist the childish urge to retort with _"You're the child!" _

… _Maybe she has a point_.

"I usually do have a point."

He turned towards her then and the T.V. paused on the _Gilmore Girls_. "I said that aloud?"

She appeared amused as she took a page from his book. "You were not saying it very loudly."

He was proud of the fact that he didn't stick out his tongue as he changed the channel – _Bones_ was on this one, and he left it on for a second, because Beckett had fallen silent. Turning, he saw how pale she was – and that she'd set the bowl of soup down on the side table. Tentatively, he reached forward to touch her hand.

She'd been focused straight ahead and her head whipped around.

"Whoa, hey, it's just me." He assured her, holding a palm out flat in front of him. "You alright there?"

Her lips were compressed. "I'll be fine."

"That's not what I asked. If I wanted to know if you'd be alright in twenty minutes, I'd have asked, 'Hey, will you be alright in twenty minutes?'"

There was no smile this time, and his heart fell. He dropped the remote back onto the table by his arm of the couch. It was perplexing, how quickly he could turn from joking to a serious, concerned _adult_ in no time at all. "What hurts?" He was aware of his fingers touching her arm. _Let me fix it. I'll fix it_. _I owe her at least that_.

"It'll be gone in a minute or two." She repeated in a voice that sounded heavy with effort.

"Has it been going on for awhile?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, looking as if she might want to debate him – but her eyes seemed to sigh as she said, "Maybe."

He ran a hand through his hair – one that would have much rather rubbed her back, something he didn't dare to do. He wasn't that brave. Instead, he stood and popped the wheelchair back out. Without asking her, he moved it next to her couch cushion and supported her. "You need a nap." He said seriously, fingers lingering on her hand.

She didn't even argue.

_**Author's Note **_

_Don't kill me? I'm sorry I was gone for so long – but without new Castle episodes, my brain was on other things. (A friend restarted my love for the show Heroes.) Which, by the way, is an amazing show. But – about this – if any of you have suggestions, don't be afraid to let me know. I pretty much know where the next few chapters are going, but I'm totally open to things. _

_Oh, and … please, please review. I want to know that I haven't lost my old reviewers and _maybe_ that I got a few new ones? _

_OH! There's an AMAZING youtube lady out there by the name of EverythingYouEver, and SHE MADE A VIDEO FOR THIS FANFICTION. Go look it up – and if you found this story by watching that video, please let me know! I want to be able to thank her for that. _

_That is all. _

_NO WAIT I LIED. _

_That is not all. _

_I'm sure you've heard of Kavi_Leighanna – she writes amazing Criminal Minds and Castle stories. Look out for a crossover of Criminal Minds and Castle on her account soon, that we're co-authoring – it's a bundle of fun. I'll definitely let you all know when that's up. _


	18. Phone Calls and Panic Attacks

**Shattered**

"She's fine."

Richard Castle repeated that sentence upon answering the phone for what felt like the seventh time, but was, in truth, only the third or fourth.

Detective Kate Beckett had been out cold for the past two hours, but Esposito and Ryan had been calling every forty minutes to check up on her – something that the author found both amusing and frustrating. If he didn't grab the phone quickly enough, it was going to wake her up.

"Calling every half hour like you do with your girlfriend isn't going to help anything," He added, leaning against the kitchen counter while a smile took over his features. "In fact, I'm starting to think the two of you are lost without the two of us there."

"In your dreams." Ryan answered – it was Ryan this time, though it had been Esposito forty minutes ago. "I'll have you know that we caught an axe murderer today." Ryan sounded like a proud child boasting a captured toad to a parent.

In Castle's stunned pause, the detective answered, "Really, the guy used an axe. Sick, sick man. He used to live on a farm, had an axe, got mad at a girlfriend … I'm guessing you know the rest."

"Talk about clichés." It sounded like Esposito's voice calling out from the background. Castle could hear the shuffling of paper on the other end of the line, before an accomplished "Aha! Found it." from Ryan.

"And you were looking for …?" Castle waved a hand in the air as if someone was there to see him do so.

"Lanie called." Ryan answered, taking on the slightly more responsible tone of an adult. "Your line was, uh, busy." Because the phone has been ringing off the hook, Castle reminded himself – not only from Lanie, who'd called earlier, or from the detectives, from Montgomery – Alexis had called as well to check in, it wasn't these calls that bothered him. It was the paparazzi that had managed to get ahold of his number, had realized where Beckett was staying – that was irritating him.

"Reminded me to remind you that you should probably stop by Beckett's apartment and grab her stuff."

He'd thought about that, briefly – someone was going to have to stop there and get her things, and there was no way he was going to allow Beckett to be that person. She could barely stand on her own two feet, for one – and he didn't know if the crime scene tape was still there, if it had been cleaned … he swallowed once. She wasn't going to want him in her apartment, and he didn't want to ask her – but they didn't have another choice, did they?

"I'll talk to her about – "

There was a low noise, coming from the direction of the bedroom – a low noise, and then a crash. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Ryan sounded concerned on the other end of the phone and he managed to shake his head and blurt out something that sounded vaguely like, "Paparazzi, I'll call back." before hanging up the phone and dashing into the bedroom, throwing aside concerns about privacy.

--

She'd been sleeping, somewhat – but mostly she'd been staring at the ceiling. No matter what she did, Beckett couldn't get her eyes to close. When she did – for the short time that she did – she saw his face. Anderson's face, as it had been in 2003 and as it was now. She thought she could feel the phantom press of the knife against her skin. Though she tried to ignore it – tried to move past it, close her eyes and let sleep take her away – she was a _cop_ for God's sake, she should be able to handle this – she couldn't seem to do so. It was still there. Dark and scary, like a child's monster lurking underneath the bed. She knew that he wasn't there – he was gone, locked away – but she felt as if he could be. Sitting there, lurking underneath the bed, ready to pounce.

_Don't be ridiculous. _She told herself, green eyes still open wide on the ceiling. _If Anderson were to even walk through the door, Castle would stop him. _

_Castle_.

That thought got her heart pounding – what if Anderson _did_ walk through the door? What would he do to stop him, when she hadn't even been able to? Her heart was beating too fast now, making her jittery and shaky. The world spun and she heard the jarring ring of a phone, jumpstarting her heart once more.

_Panic attack_.

She needed to get up, to move, to breathe, but she was breathing too much already. Half forgetting that she was in a cast and was supposed to be using a wheelchair, she attempted to swing her feet over the edge of the bed, falling and catching herself at the last second. Unfortunately, she knocked over the alarm clock and several water bottles Castle had left in the room.

"You've got to be kidding me." She whispered, feeling the panic attack recede as let herself sit on the edge of the bed for a moment. Had she really let herself believe Anderson was in the house? If she was being honest, that wasn't what had started her panic attack – it had been the thought of Anderson in the house _with Castle_ that had done that for her.

In the absence of sound, she heard something else – the absence of something. For the past two hours, Castle had been on the phone nearly constantly.

He wasn't talking right now.

In the same instant that the thought crossed her mind, the door of the guest bedroom swung open. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if she looked as she felt – pale, shaken, disturbed. Castle looked as if he'd recently discovered his house was on fire.

"Kate." He spoke her name as a realization.

She just shook her head, turning back to face the opposite direction. Her face felt hot. "I'm fine, Castle."

"I heard –"

"I knocked something over, alright?" She managed, reaching down just enough to pick up the alarm clock and put it back on the desk. "That's all. Go back to doing whatever you were doing."

"Hey, I just-"

She ground her teeth, feeling her face grow even hotter at the realization – once again – that her panic attack had been at the thought of him. "I'm fine. _Go. _Write or something."

"I'm not trying to-"

"You never can listen, can you?" She said, taking out her frustration on him and losing control of her tongue. "I just … want to be alone."

_Author's Note: _

_I know, I know – many of you are going to hate me for that, but we can't have it all be fluff, can it? This is a step backwards for the two of them but … well, you all have chapter twenty to look forward to, I promise you guys that. _

_So, I don't know if I mentioned this last time, but Kavi_Leighanna(author of California Dreaming. Amazing story. Go read it.) and I are going to be co-writing a crossover between this show and Criminal Minds – so I hope that all of you will look out for that in the near future! _

_And as for this Sunday's episode – yes, an episode on Sunday _and_ Monday – I'm so excited I don't even have _words_. _


	19. The Necklace

Shattered

Her words sliced through the space between them like a knife. And they hurt. He was surprised at just how much. He knew that she'd been through something none of his inked words could capture. He knew that, he did – but hadn't it only been hours ago that they'd been comfortable enough to joke? What had happened to that time? Had it really been erased so quickly, and so simply?

There was something more here. More than the dropped water bottle or the sudden infuriation she had for him.

He'd been standing there for too long without saying anything, because she turned her head back over her shoulder to stare at him. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her eyes said everything, they always did. Beckett could put on a brave face for the world but her eyes almost always gave her away.

Behind the anger, so real and vivid, a livewire in those green eyes, there was something else. Behind the strain in her shoulders and the way her hands hung lifelessly, there was something that made his heart ache.

Fear.

Why hadn't he noticed it before? How many times had he written of a character that hid their fear behind something else? But maybe that was just it – she wasn't an ink and pen character.

That was what really bothered him – that he suddenly hadn't been able to read her as he usually could. For however short of an amount of time, he hadn't been able to read the NYPD detective. He'd missed out on that hidden emotion when it counted the most.

Failure raced through his veins – a sickening, empty feeling.

She'd turned her head back to staring at the wall before her as Castle began to lose sight of what he'd needed to say to her to make her see, to make her understand that she didn't have to hide it. She wasn't even speaking to him. How could he help if she wasn't speaking? She always had something to say.

_She already told you what to do._ He thought to himself, wishing he could banish the thought. Leave her here? Simply leave her as she'd asked him to? Most of him couldn't see the sense in that. She'd be alone again.

But that was what she'd asked for, wasn't it? Maybe his being there wasn't going to help, if she was trying to keep all emotion away from him. He couldn't bear to force her to expose her demons when she'd already gone through so much. That wasn't helping, not like he wanted to – that was just plain cruelty. He couldn't be cruel to her.

/_Most of the times she's been mad at you were because you were trying to help her. Back off._ Castle knew that the annoying voice in his head was correct, but it didn't make it sting any less.

"Alright," He said outwardly, quietly, as if he were afraid to disturb her. "Alright." She still faced the wall, her head tilted slightly downwards. "I –" He took a few steps backwards, hand reaching behind him for the door handle. "-am going to go. But if you need me, for anything, at all –" His hand closed on the door handle. "-just bang on the wall or call my cell phone … yell, use ESP. I'll hear you." It was a desperate promise but the best one he could make her. Against his will, he pushed the door open, hesitating for just the smallest of seconds.

He was giving her time. Time to call him back in, to let him back in. He wasn't sure whether it was for her benefit or for his. Probably the latter.

But she didn't. And he'd known that she wouldn't.

The click of the closing door was loud in the empty space. It sounded strangely definite … final. A new feeling threaded its way through Kate's stomach with that sound. It left her chest feeling tight and a bitter taste in her mouth. She'd actually convinced him to leave. A part of her hadn't believed that she'd be able to: that he'd refuse, that she wouldn't have the will to do what she'd just done. To hurt him, as she obviously had.

But she had done it. She'd forced him to leave. That single fact swelled in her mind as the panic took over again: panic that was all encompassing and slowly drew at the anger she'd forced Castle to witness. Anger that was as fake as the calm she'd showed him earlier.

She couldn't have let him see that. Everything in her had shouted that she couldn't, no matter how much the fear had calmed when he was in the room. He couldn't know that her fear hadn't been solely of Anderson in the house – but rather Anderson being in the house with him. Hurting him. When she couldn't protect him against that.

And she'd sent him out, too. Sent him away selfishly because she couldn't stand to have him see her that way. That she was weak.

Those same thoughts stirred the panic in her mind even further. The noise hadn't been Anderson. She knew that. She was trying to know that. It had been something outside, not remotely connected to the man that had taken her hostage but … nausea erupted in her chest, a fluttering of her heart that couldn't be settled. Palpations.

Not again.

In through your nose and out through your mouth. That was what her mother would have told her, but Kate couldn't find the sense in it now. What possible sense could there be in breathing when she was already so light-headed? The world inside her head was moving back and forth, rotating in a nauseating fashion so that rational thought flew from her mind.

"Shit," She managed to snarl, unable to bend her head downwards any further than she already was. Her shoulder throbbed with pain and her broken ribs burned.

She hadn't had many panic attacks in her life, but she'd known those who did. It was inevitable in their line of work to not know someone who'd suffered from them. Or nightmares. She was familiar with their horror, the way that they could suffocate and suck the life away.

She'd had them after her mother was murdered. She hadn't stopped having them.

The time after her mother's death had brought panic attacks, too. Those had been fewer and further between then the nightmares. Brought on by sounds, smells – t the mere thought that her mother was going to walk through the door, that it would happen all over again and she wouldn't be able to stop it.

She'd needed to be able to stop it. Not to her own mother – despite irrational thought of panicked moments, she was under no delusion that she could stop her mother's killer from performing the act that had changed all their lives.

But she could stop it from happening to others.

She'd needed to find her mother's killer.

The panic attacks had stopped when she'd realized that she could. A detective. Yes, she could do that. Young Katherine Beckett could toughen up and do what she could.

She hadn't had a panic attack since making the decision to become an NYPD detective.

_You're losing control_, her mind said. _You're losing control again. You can't stop him. He'll come back and he'll take Castle, too, just like you couldn't stop your mother's-_

She wasn't getting enough air and she was getting too much air at the same time. Everything spun, and every breath that she took hurt. Her lungs wouldn't fill, and her ribs ached every time she attempted to fill them.

_Panic attack, Katie, it's just a panic attack,_ It was her father's voice in her mind but it did nothing to help now. Words that had been spoken so many times when she was younger made no difference to her now. Her father wasn't here, he didn't know, couldn't confirm to her that Anderson wasn't going to walk through that door.

Minutes passed: agonizing minutes of panicked thoughts. Telling herself she was irrational and convincing herself Castle would die in the same second of time. Minutes grouped together to form five and ten, a half hour passed.

Her breathing slowed, and her fingers found her neck and the necklace that always hung around it. As if separate of her being, her fingers touched that necklace, the familiar curves that she knew better than herself.

If, one day, she were to forget her mother's face, forget every curve and laugh line, she'd remember the necklace.

She had to.

_Author's Note:_

_I know how long this has taken. I don't think that anything I can say can really apologize for that. I'm typing this on a NEO in a Starbucks. If I gave you my excuses (I've had AP's, I've had LIFE, I've been working on other stories, I've been convinced that everything I write sucks and still am), it would only sound pathetic. See? Pathetic._

_It's only due to the continued encouragement of all of you that this chapter is even up here in the first place. I know that it's short. I know that, I really do. But I can promise you that a) chapter twenty, the one that you're all waiting for because I've promised you angst AND fluff, instead of more rifts between them and b) the wait WILL NEVER BE THIS LONG AGAIN, and c) I'm going to try to give every single reviewer a review reply._

_I can promise you that. Mhm, I can._

_And, there's the fact that posting of Memoir, the Criminal Minds and Castle crossover that I've been co-authoring with Kavi Leighanna has now started on Kavi's account. I know that we'd both love it if you were to go over there and review that as well._

_How many of you are excited for the season finale of Castle in two weeks? I know that I am. It's sort of bittersweet, of course. Because that means we have no more new episodes until next September, which kind of sucks big time._

_But._

_… Review? Because it would give this discouraged author the best three seconds of her life. Ever._

_SSW_


	20. Stay

_Author's Note: _

_I'm so sorry. There aren't enough apologies in the world. If there are people still reading this, I apologize so deeply for the break of nearly six months. Life got in the way, and as this chapter deals with panic attacks, whenever I'd sit down to write it, I'd feel one of my own coming on. As you can probably guess, it hindered the writing completely. _

_But I'm here now. I won't abandon you guys. And if there's one person still reading out there … enjoy. _

_

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Night fell like a sheath. Alexis had brought dinner – sent in by her father, because Kate still didn't want him to see her. The youngest Castle had been good about it – making meaningless chatter before letting her eat dinner in peace. Kate had quickly hidden the case files that had kept her mind occupied. She highly doubted that _either_ Castle would approve of her doing work.

Sleep was elusive. When she thought of the word elusive, it was more like _impossible_. Sleep was a slippery ghost that didn't even come into her view. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. For all she knew, it had been in the hospital, on narcotics.

She made sure the light was out even though it spooked her. Maybe they'd think she was asleep. Maybe he wouldn't worry.

But the darkness only added to the panic that was encroaching on her. Four in the morning dawned, a time when the detective was normally fast asleep. Nothing was normal, though – and she knew it would never really be normal again.

A crash from outside. It didn't matter what it was. Rationally, she knew it was New York City. There was never quiet on the streets. But irrationally?

Oh, God. Rationality was flying from her mind like sand between her fingers, and the more she grasped, the more panic replaced it. Kate's heart thudded like a possessed drum in her chest, wild and unceasing with the feeling of a heart attack.

_No, no, no. _

She tried to force the feeling back, but it was only rising. It made her wish for mere nightmares, saints in comparison to panic attacks.

_No, Kate. _

A strangled cry escaped her lips. Every time she thought about it, to try and push it back, the more the panic chased her like a wild beast. Each time she thought she'd forced it away, it settled back in, worse than the seconds before.

This was how she'd woken from barely the smallest amount of sleep - no explanation except the memory of Anderson's face in her nightmares, an evil, obsessed smile on his lips and a cruel, wanting light in his eyes.

Kate pressed a shaking hand to her lips, trying to force back the nausea and the encompassing feeling that Anderson was in the house. With Castle. With _Rick_. And nothing she could do would stop it from happening. She was powerless.

The familiar, threatening feeling of having no control crushed her; her mind was spinning out of control and the room spun with it. She squeezed her eyes shut and let them fly open again with the fear that he was there, in the room, hiding in the darkness.

Or worse, standing outside Castle's bedroom door, waiting … that glinting knife held out ….

_He's in jail, Kate._

But it didn't matter, because all her mind could tell her was that he was there.

Another cry escaped her lips, then another, until they were continuous and she was breathing too hard. Her chest erupted in pain, her shoulder burned, and her ribs were on fire.

She couldn't shake the certainty that Castle was going to die, and the thought choked her as if Anderson himself had his hands around her throat. She could feel his fingers, closing, squeezing...

She needed to move, escape, and she needed to do it quickly. Kate felt the walls closing in on her, trapping her. She needed to move but was trapped by the broken ankle and ribs, the disorienting concussion still lingering.

She wanted to move, but she was tethered.

But panic made her move anyway.

It was a strangled sound that woke him from sleep, a sound that permeated the air around him and struck him like a thousand volts of electricity straight to the heart. There were certain screams that he knew the sound of. He knew Alexis' scream, when she was having a nightmare. He could pull that one out of a crowd. He knew the artificial wale of a voice on the TV, and it was one that often didn't wake him. He knew the obnoxious cries of someone outside.

But this scream – it wasn't familiar to him. In those seconds when he was only just woken from his sleep, he could have sworn that he'd never heard It before in his life. Only, it was coming from his house and he knew it instantly even though he'd never heard it before – because he knew the voice.

Kate.

He was up from the bed in an instant, almost tripping in his need to quicken his pace. He untangled the sheets from his legs and went from his room as though it were on fire. He should have slept on the couch – why hadn't he thought of that? He hadn't been thinking, that was why. He hadn't been thinking and now there was something wrong.

He shoved the door open though she hadn't locked it, already struggling to have his eyes adjust to the lighting. As he blinked, shapes became more than dark patches of color. They became a bed and a lamp and a nightstand. She wasn't there. He didn't see her. No, Castle couldn't see her – but he could hear her, and his heart pounded with what he heard.

"Kate," He said quietly, meaning to identify himself to the sound coming from the corner near the nightstand. He could hear breathing: too quick gasps of air, too quick for any state of normalcy, broken by choking sounds of pain. "Kate." He repeated her name, taking a step.

He stepped around the bed before he could finally see her: huddled against the wall, eyes bright with tears, chest heaving and a hand clutching at her ribs. Slowly, moving not to startle her, he dropped to his knees several feet away.

Like she had in Anderson's basement, the detective looked so small to him now. She looked shattered, broken, fractured, and nothing he had in him could put a half to it. He couldn't turn time around, couldn't reverse the damage that had been done to her. He couldn't take it away. All he could do was see her now, and feel a strain in his chest, a painful tug that wanted to rip him apart. Her hair had fallen forward, creating a curtain before her eyes. Tears wet a face flushed red.

Her lips parted and a word was spoken, just one word out of thousands she could have uttered, millions of things she could have said. He was the master of words, he could twist and spin them to oblivion, but it was her one word that was the most profound.

"Help," Was the word that she uttered. It was more powerful than that scream. It frightened him more, too.

"Tell me how. What do you want me to do, Kate?" He asked her, searching her face. He didn't want to touch her if she didn't want him to. Rick was afraid to move, to even breathe, afraid of disturbing her even further. He didn't want to scare her – that was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

She didn't move except for the way her entire body was trembling. Her chest was heaving frantically, as though she couldn't get enough oxygen. Her fingers were still clutching at her ribs. In the same instant that he saw the way she was breathing, he knew what this was – _panic attack_. The words dropped like anvils. Whatever she was thinking right now, whatever she was feeling – it was just like a nightmare. It didn't matter if it was real or not, because she felt it was real. And that was enough.

When she didn't answer, he let go of a soft breath. Inwardly, the writer was cursing himself for not knowing more about what she was going through. Writers had their share of merit, of course – but his knowledge of random facts tended to be limited. He knew minimal information about thousands of things, and whatever he could recall of a panic attack hardly felt like enough.

_Get her to calm her breathing_. That wasn't even for panic attacks, it was simply from the way her fingers tightened every time she took another breath. He met eyes with her as he moved to sit next to her against the wall, silently asking, _Is this okay_? She didn't object. What she did do surprised him – shook him, and he struggled not to show it.

Kate Beckett moved closer, so that their legs were touching. He saw her hands stop shaking, though they kept on grasping at her ribs. It was a small step, but as part of the whole it was a giant one. Her breathing continued in frantic gasps.

"I ever tell you about the time I stole a police horse, naked?"

He hoped for some kind of response – a small laugh would be a miracle, and he'd settle for her breathing slowing down – but neither of those happened. She didn't even respond.

"Come on, Kate," He urged, though his voice was nothing but gentle. "There has to be something I can do."

She surprised him by speaking, though the words she spoke were strangled by the rate of her breathing.

"Just stay."

He'd never thought any two words could be more powerful than that single word of 'help', but she broke the record with those two. If anything, he'd been expecting her to ask him to leave.

"Of course, Kate." He murmured, all the while his mind turning like a half-psychotic Ferris Wheel. The inquisitive side of him wanted to ask what had brought it on – wanted to know why it had happened now, for the second time that day, but this time stronger and more violent. The compassionate side of Richard Castle won out, and he kept silent.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into what he felt could be hours – though when his eyes turned to the clock, not even fifteen minutes had passed and she was still breathing as though she'd run a marathon.

He had to do something, before she hyperventilated any more than she already was – broken ribs weren't pleasant with that, either.

"Listen to me, Kate," He said, the words gentle and strong. If Rick Castle had anything on his side, it was words – whether written or spoken, they'd always come easy to him. Of course, Kate usually turned out to be the one person his words always failed on. He struggled to get past that now. "We'll do this together."

He didn't say to her, 'It's only a panic attack', because 'only' wasn't just a false word, that entire statement was false. She wasn't going to want to hear that she could get past this, or that she was strong enough, even if he knew that she was. If he knew one thing about panic attacks, it was that rational thinking had no place in them.

"In through your nose and out through your mouth." He almost expected some kind of rebuttal from her, and it scared him when he was met with nothing but the silence of her frantic breathing. "Nothing can happen to you here. If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't have brought you here."

She shook her head and then winced. To her merit, she tried what he'd suggested. He noticed her fingers tightening by her ribs and suppressed a wince of his own.

He almost apologized for it, and stopped when he realized it would do no good. "One more time." _One step at a time_. He knew once the adrenaline wore off she was going to be in a world of pain – he hardly knew how she'd managed to hop off of the bed with a broken ankle and a previously dislocated shoulder. "In and out, Kate."

When she spoke this time, her words struggled less. "He's in the house, Castle."

His answer came quickly. "No. He's not." Taking a chance, he moved his hand to rest on her knee. "He's in a prison. I can confirm that with one phone call." Looking at her, gauging her reaction… "Do you want me to do that?"

"What if-" A small cry left her lips and interrupted her words. "He's here, and you're," Her words fell silent and her eyelids slid closed.

The realization dawned and his stomach turned. If he was the inadvertent cause of all of this… "Is that what you're worried about?" He asked, hoping the words didn't sound stupid, or patronizing. "We're safe, Kate. We're all safe." His words cracked on her name and his throat tightened. He turned to look at her, eyes red-rimmed and tears streaking down her cheeks.

"How?" She questioned with a single word, but he was puzzled.

"How what?" He noticed that her breathing had slowed. It felt like a small victory in the face of everything else.

"Can you be sure?" She finished, cheeks devoid of color.

He fought for an answer that would make sense to her in the face of panic. "I'm sitting here." Rick told her.

To his utter amazement, her face relaxed. But it was what she did next – her head gently falling to rest on his shoulder – that stilled his heart.

"Don't leave."

He didn't.

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_Author's Note: _

_There is another reason that this chapter took me so long – and it's the nature of it. Obviously, they're both severely out of character. But … if you know what I mean, they're in character at the same time. I don't know if you've ever witnessed anybody having a panic attack, and everybody who has them varies, but rationality just flies right out the window. You don't have the ability to feel embarrassed about it – you need what you need, and what you need is for it to stop. You generally do whatever works. This is what worked for Kate, in this case. _

_And if it sounded right there like I was speaking from experience, I was. Mine, definitely, and others as well. _

_I know it's been awhile, guys – and I'd understand if nobody was reading this anymore. If there's someone out there, and I know for a fact that this isn't my best chapter – please, _please_ review. It means that I'll have incentive to continue. Because this most definitely isn't the last chapter that I have planned. The next is an explanation/after panic attack thing. _

_Promises are cheap, so I won't tell you guys it won't be awhile before I update. I've got finals coming up. But I've also got a month break – so you can expect an update ._

_Reviews are love. They are better than cookies. _


	21. Extraordinary

_Author's Note: _

_I cannot begin to express my gratitude to each and every one of you. The last chapter brought me over seventy reviews and that's not something I've _ever_ had before. I would have replied to each and every one of you but I didn't have the time … and I figured you'd rather receive a chapter, right? But honestly, you're the best reviewers that a girl could ever ask for. _

_

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He kept an arm gently wrapped around her shoulders, knowing that when she woke, it most likely wasn't going to be pleasant. But it was for the simply reasoning that she was sleeping – actually _sleeping_ – that he let her continue to do exactly that, her head resting on his shoulder. Castle's hand absently rubbed her arm. It had been awhile since both his arms and legs had fallen asleep, but he didn't dare move.

His mother had stopped in, doing no more than poking her head through the door and nodding before saying, "I'll make sure Alexis gets to school." He'd nodded, mouthing the words, 'Thank you', even though he knew Alexis always got herself to school, even if he was already at the precinct. It was simply his mother's way of saying she was trying to help.

He was dreading the moment she woke – not because of any amount of awkwardness but because they'd been sitting on the floor for over five hours. Despite it being the only sleep she'd had, he knew there were places more comfortable.

And, of course, it would mean the start of another day, one he was hesitant to approach. Yesterday had been different, a trial of sorts. All they'd had to do, it seemed, was make it through that day. Even though they'd both known that wasn't true, that there was a lot more to make it through than just one day and night, it had seemed that if they could just surpass that first challenge, they'd be all right.

But in reality, a second day brought on a whole new set of challenges.

She shifted her head against his shoulder, hair brushing against his chin. Castle had nearly stopped breathing, afraid to jostle her. Kate moaned, and he could see her clench her jaw. Cautiously, he ran his hand up and down her arm.

"Castle?"

She'd pulled back to look at him quizzically, green eyes hazy with confusion. The corner of his mouth pulled into a grin, but it was one filled with kindness.

"Who else?" He questioned, and though his voice held the same self-satisfaction that it always did, it was softer, less pronounced. Eyes rolled as she turned her head away, pushing against his shoulder to sit up against the wall. It was impossible not to hear the pained hiss of breath she released.

"Mmm." She sounded groggy. For a split second she raised her hand before she drew in another breath and let it fall back to her side, gritting her teeth. "Why am I on the floor?"

"I wish I had a crazy, filthy,"

"Castle." Her voice was impatient and chiding and just a bit annoyed. It was nothing less than she normally was and it gave him a bit of relief to hear it.

"Sorry." Castle gently brushed his fingers along her hand, heart jumping when she laid her head back on his shoulder. The arm still wrapped around her tightened almost imperceptibly, and he had to resist the urge to rest his chin on top of her hair. That probably wouldn't be the best route to go, if she was feeling better and he wanted to remain among the living.

"Can we get _off_ the floor?"

Castle made a tiny noise in the back of his throat. "That might be the difficult part, Kate." It was a second later that he realised his slip. Last night, when she'd been panicking and inconsolable, it had been alright to call her Kate. But now?

Only, she didn't protest. Just grit her teeth and nodded, making him realise she knew _exactly_ why they were on the floor – and probably why they still were.

"I can handle it. Just help me."

_Help her_. He could do that. He could help her. He always would, any time. All she ever had to do was ask, and … she wasn't panicking now. She wasn't tearful and hyperventilating. Katherine Beckett was simply asking for his help.

"Rest against me."

She didn't argue with him, simply leaning against his side. If one shoulder wasn't stitched and bandaged and the other arm wasn't in a sling from a dislocated shoulder, he'd have told her to put an arm around his neck. But with her current state, that was impossible, and he knew that.

Kate's head resting against his shoulder for the second time in twenty four hours felt like a blessing.

Gently, he hooked an arm underneath her knees and another behind her back, and she seemed to get the hint. The detective leaned back and let him support her weight, though he had to lean back against the wall in order to stand. Kate grit her teeth again, barely suppressing a pained sound.

"Sorry," He murmured, sitting her on the edge of the bed and apologising again when she winced. Castle waited until he was sure she would still be sitting up if he wasn't holding her before backing away, "Are you all right?"

She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her. Knowing he was breaking another boundary, he cupped her cheek gently with a hand, brushing his fingers along her temple.

When he let his hand fall back to his side again, he spoke. "Right." His voice was suddenly all-business, but it hadn't lost the touch of sincerity that always made it into his voice when he was speaking to her. "Pain pills. But breakfast first."

To his honest surprise, she didn't protest.

It took them awhile to make it from the edge of the bed to her wheelchair, and even longer to the sofa. One second of debate in his head told him that bringing her to the sofa would eliminate a step of helping her from the table to the sofa later on. He made quiet conversation so she didn't have to, but in true Kate Beckett style, it didn't stop her from chiming in. by the time he'd brought her a piece of toast and a glass of water, he'd even gotten a quiet chuckle out of her.

But it was short-lived.

Castle moved his hand gently up and down her back, jaw clenched at seeing her in pain. Wasn't the emotional enough? In reality he knew that one was accentuating the other, that she wasn't going to escape either for quite some time, but that didn't mean he had to accept it.

"Just breathe." They were nearly the same word he'd spoken to her the night before, and he hated that he had to repeat them. "What hurts?" Not that there was actually anything he'd be able to do about it but if there was something wrong, he wanted to know.

"Ribs." The word was sharp. "I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."

He left his hand on her back while she continued to take even breaths. Eventually, she nodded, and he came back around to place the two pain pills next to the toast. Kate murmured her thanks as he took a seat next to her.

There was silence until she'd finished the toast and he'd finished his coffee. It wasn't the awkward kind of silence that resulted from two people not knowing what to say, but rather, from two people being comfortable with not saying anything at all. From not needing to say anything because they already understood everything that needed to be said.

It was Kate who broke the silence, touching his arm with warm fingers.

"Thank you, Rick." Hazel eyes met his and held them with nothing but sincerity. "For last night."

His mouth quirked in a gentle smile. "Of course."

"I mean it."

Dipping his head gently but still meeting her eyes, Castle's words were honest. "I know."

Kate nodded once – a single, affirmative, nod. "Good."

The angry vibration of her cell phone from the side table broke apart their moment. Castle reached for it, looking at the caller ID before handing it to her.

"Esposito." He couldn't help the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "You know they called every five minutes yesterday?"

She rolled her eyes, barely suppressing the amused smile. "Do I have to yell at them for not getting any work done?"

He shrugged a shoulder that meant, _Yes, you do_ as she flipped open the cell.

Castle watched her expression as she talked, ready to step in and yell at him for bothering her if need be. he knew he didn't have to. He knew that Esposito meant the best, that the two detectives were like younger and older brothers to her.

But that didn't stop the protective instinct from cropping up.

"Good to hear you too, Javi." There was warmth in her voice. "No, no, you don't have to-"

He raised a brow, and she looked at him before half-rolling her eyes again.

"Fine. I don't feel like arguing. Bring something interesting. None of that stuff from that – yeah, that's the one."

When she'd flipped the phone shut, Castle was grinning.

"He's coming over?"

"And bringing lunch. And Ryan."

"They were worried sick." Castle said gently, moving the plate to the coffee table. "You look tired."

She raised a brow. "You're not looking too great yourself, hot-shot."

Managing to ignore the quip, he lifted his eyes to the bedroom. "You could take a nap before they get here."

But her face fell for an instant before she could put the walls back up again, colour draining and mouth pressed into a straight line.

"I'm fine."

If there were two words in the English dictionary that meant the exact opposite of their definition, 'I'm' and 'fine' were it.

Castle moved his hand gently over hers, covering it. Her hand was warm, surprisingly soft despite the work she did every day. He gave it a squeeze, not failing to notice the almost-smile he received in response. Kate's eyelids fluttered closed, but it wasn't anything near a peaceful motion. It was pained.

She was hiding.

"You can talk to me. About anything." He needed to make sure she knew that.

There was a pause before he heard her take a breath, stopping halfway in her throat. Her hand twitched in his.

"It's worse right after I wake up. The panic." The admission was whispered at first, but her next sentence was louder, a little bit stronger than the last. "So much worse."

Her hand flipped in his, a single moment where he barely dared to breathe and she squeezed his hand back. Nothing he could say would make this better, no words he could comfort her with to ease the fact that not only was _sleeping_ difficult, but waking up was worse.

And he was so, so used to being able to fix things with words. Sometimes, he wasn't sure if he knew how to be a person without words.

But then he remembered her hand squeezing his back and remembered he wasn't doing the talking at all – she was.

"So that's why I can't sleep, Rick."

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at him. The moment wasn't like he would have written it – her eyes weren't full of tears, her hand didn't shake in his – because in the end, Katherine Beckett was entirely different from Nikki Heat.

And in her most vulnerable moments, Kate was nothing near weak.

"An idea, then." Moving an inch closer to her made their legs touch, warmth that soothed the anxious, guilty fire in his stomach. Kate's eyes found his, and the trust he found there shocked him. It still surprised him that out of all the people she could trust after what she'd been through, she was choosing him.

He didn't deserve to be trusted. Not after the pain he'd caused.

But he'd keep that to himself. She didn't need his guilt along with her pain.

"Sit here and watch TV with me. Try to relax. And if you fall asleep in the process," He brushed his thumb along the back of her hand when he spoke the words. "I'll be here to remind you it's all right when you wake up."

She chuckled softly, but it wasn't mean. If it were possible, it was … tender.

"Has anybody told you you're extraordinary?"

The word sent a shiver down his spine, and the glint in her eyes told him she'd said it intentionally. His stomach fluttered with butterflies like a schoolboy's. Giving a chuckle of his own in response, he leaned in and placed his lips against her temple, hearing the sharp intake of breath it caused.

"Only you, Kate."

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_Author's Note: _

_I know that not a lot happened in this chapter. Kate still has a lot of issues to work through (like getting back to work, facing Anderson, the panic attacks, daily tasks, and yes Lanie has to come back) – and to all of the lovely romantics reading this out there, _yes_, there will be romance. (If this chapter was anything of an indicator.) I wasn't as fond of this chapter as I'd like to be, but it meant something different to Rick and Kate than the panic attack scene did. In that chapter, the developments between them (while they definitely meant something) were in the heat of panic. Any comments made in this chapter weren't panicked, but … a different sort of development, if that makes any sense. _

_There will be more angst chapters. There will be fluff chapters. _

_And have I told you guys that you're __**extraordinary?**__ Because you are. _

_When people tell me that this fic actually helped them in some way? I can hardly believe it. If this helps somebody … I know how bad panic attacks and things of that nature, for lack of a better word, suck. So if I can help somebody by writing? That's … fantastic. _

_Yes, you'll get to read Esposito and Ryan next chapter. And depending on how it goes, something else completely adorable, too. _

_And to Lauren – no, that's not weird at all. That's how I can tell if they're in character, too. _

_Review? Because I do a happy dance any time I get the email and may or may not have a dance for it. _


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